On another planet, in a parallel reality, two forces clash. One fights for freedom, and one fights to enslave. Again and again they clash, generating forces so powerful that the comparatively weak space-time continuum would have shattered, had they been bound by it. The backwash energy of their battle had obliterated the ties between their current battlefield and the place they had once called home. Time now flew by with no pattern, spinning, speeding and leaping out of control, both forwards and backwards even sideway, through dimensions, as it does now, turning sharply. Not missing a beat, the two forces both use the sudden ensuing dimensional shift to their advantage, increasing their respective powers by an incalculable margin. Neither has even the slightest clue of where this energy comes from. They only know that they must destroy the other.

"And here is the Granluon Spire. This is where, over three thousand centuries ago, the legendary Envoy of Beginning slayed the terrible Envoy of End.”
“Where you there, Master Lithium?” asked young trainee Eejae.
“Nay, my young protégée,” Lithium chuckled. “That was many, many centuries before my time. That was before even Lord Doom’s time. Though I do know what happened, it is a most famous legend.”
“Tell us, Master!” trainee Blaak pleaded.
“Very well. Before the dawn of wizardry, when Breaker the Great forged the Black Stone of Power, man was at the mercy of one creature: The great and terrible Envoy of the End. This abominable monster courted Chaos, and ruled it as its Emperor. This creature used Chaos as it’s power source. And Chaos is...?”
“The earliest and most primal form of magic known. Prior to the Forging, it was the only was to gain power.” Eejae echoed from his earlier lesson that day.
Apparently determined to one-up his brother, Blaak furrowed his brow and recited a poem he had looked up during lunch.

“Of this power,
Born at the first hour,
There wielded only four,
The Soldier, the Dragon,
The Sorcerer, the Hunter,
But never any more.”

“Not bad,” Lithium said, impressed. “That poem is actually about this tale, though it is in truth a bit outdated. You see, it was inevitable that the Chaos Emperor Dragon would let slip a drop of the power of Chaos. It actually happened while he was destroying a village. The village was the home of a special monk. He was powerful, but his power’s source, while it can be confirmed that it was not Chaos, was unknown, and remains so to this day. He was meditating in a high mountain peek that overlooked his home when the Dragon attacked. Gathering his power, he molded a large outcropping of the mountain, three to four time the size of the Citadel of Endymion, into a small pyramid, about as long as one’s forearm, and as wide at its base as one’s hand. He then sent it hurtling to the ground of the village, guiding it with his power to land exactly where he wanted it. When the Dragon smashed the monk’s house below, he stepped on the pyramid. It broke his skin, and sank into his foot. For the first time, the Dragon knew pain. Roaring, it thrashed about, destroying the mountain. The monk leapt amongst the falling stone, jumping from chunk to chunk to land gently on the ground. The Dragon flew off; the gust of his takeoff destroying what little remained of the village.
“Wandering through the wreckage, the monk worked his way to where he knew the Dragon had bled. Shaping a cup from the ground in which it lay, he gathered the blood and drank it, knowing that he would gain the power of Chaos that flowed through the Dragon’s veins. What not even the monk could anticipate was that the Dragon’s spirit was contained in even the smallest part of him. This Phantom of Chaos took over the monk’s mind, body, and soul. He became the Chaos Sorcerer, the first human to ever wield any magical powers.”
“Pardon me, Master, but is the monk was so obviously powerful, why not fight the Dragon himself?” inquired Eejae. “Why take the risk of Chaos?”
“He could have done so, yes, but he knew the true secret of Chaos. We do not know what it is that he discovered, but whatever it was, he decided that Chaos must fight Chaos. Therefore, he drank the Dragon’s blood. Now, as I was saying-” Lithium began.
“But how could we know his motive but not his knowledge? Aren’t the memories of all spellcasters past in the Black Stone of Power?” Blaak interrupted.
“Wait, but wasn’t this all before the Forging?” Eejae said.
“Maybe if you closed your mouths and opened your ears, you’d find the answers you seek!” Barked Lithium. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he thought, Why did Lord Doom have to stick me with babysitting these twin brats? Sighing, he continued the legend as the made their way down the Spire’s huge outer spiral walkway.
“The Chaos Sorcerer was completely mad. He wandered from village to village, infecting hundreds with the power of Chaos. This caused a number of effects on the people. Most mutated horribly and died upon infection, while some went without symptoms for months before suddenly exploding violently. However, those that reproduced after being infected gave birth to a race of powerful humans. One such being had her parents killed in front of her when the Sorcerer came to her village. She vowed vengeance, and began training to hunt and kill the Sorcerer. She became known as the Chaos Hunter. Eventually, she fought and killed him, but was horribly wounded in the fight, and died just moments after her victory.
“For centuries, a pattern occurred. The Emperor Dragon was seen less and less, and the Human Race began to organize themselves. After people had nearly forgotten about him, the Dragon returned. It was worse the second time around, for humanity had become stronger, and thus had hope. It held on to that hope, however bitterly, even as the Dragon destroyed their cities and killed most of their people. They tried to fight beck, but there was no force they had that was strong enough to repel the Dragon for even a minute.
“But in the darkest hour, as the last human stronghold on the planet got word that the Dragon was coming, the ultimate warrior appeared, born of Chaos!”
“But where did his power come from?” interrupted Eejae.
“You remember, of course, that the Chaos Sorcerer had spread Chaos throughout the human race, correct?” The boys both nodded. “Well, at this point, every human had some seed of Chaos energy in them. When the Dragon killed them, he released all that power as their souls ascended to Heaven or descended to Hell. This released power was, when combined, enough to rival that of the Dragon. It merged into a single, powerful entity: The legendary Black Luster Soldier – Envoy of the Beginning! For nigh on a decade, these two titans of Chaos waged war on one another, until the Soldier finally managed to drain the Dragon’s power, and used it to create an alternate dimension, the first of its kind, within a geometric point – the tip of his mighty sword. With it, he pierced the Dragon’s heart, and trapped it within that dimension. Then, he created another dimension, and trapped the sword within it. There he forged an entire reality, contained in a single orb of power. Finally, he created the first magical seal, and buried the Chaos Dragon orb in the ground underneath it. There, humans rebuilt their city, and since that day, the Granluon Spire has stood.”
They finally reached the base of the spire, where the long spiral ramp spilled out into a beautiful pavilion.
“Ah, I see it’s now time for you to return to your classes. Off with you!” Commanded Lithium.
“But Master, you didn’t tell us how we know the Monk’s memor-” Began Blaak.
“Enough! You have classes to attend, and I’m not planning to spend my day just twiddling my thumbs, you know! Now, off with you! Go!” Lithium barked. The boys scampered away into the pavilion, no doubt to incorrectly share the legend with their friends. Readjusting his robe’s belt, Lithium gazed up at the Hemlorent Tower, where he knew Lord Doom would be holding his weekly meeting with King Artorigus. He chanted a levitation spell, and began the slow float to the tower.

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 5:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Elsewhere...
Phoenix looked up as he heard the roar. Not again, he thought. Hurriedly placing the meat into the basket, he whistled, long and low. Even after nearly 800 years, the gust of Tempest’s landing was still almost enough to blow him off his feet. He put the basket into the saddle’s satchel and mounted. “Let us be gone, my friend!” Grunting in agreement, Tempest took off, staying as low as he could as he tore across the gently rolling countryside. Curse my wings! We’ll never get there in time!
“We must! That was Stardust roaring, and that means Zanrith is in trouble!” Phoenix grunted, straining to hold on against the wind. “If he dies, then the knowledge of the Straynier Scroll will be lost! We cannot let that happen!” Agreed. Tempest tapped into his inner energy, using it to gain more speed. You may want to conjure your armor for this one. I can smell 7-no 8 of them, at the very least.
“Very well, then.” Phoenix closed his eyes, doing his best to concentrate despite the fierce wind. He let his mind meld with his dragon’s spirit, and allowed the energy of the connection to flood through him. He channeled it, using it to access his own innermost, deepest reserves of power. A ghostly suit of green, flowing armor appeared around him. It resembled Tempest in image, and caused him to look like some hybrid form of them. “Alright, armor’s on.” He sniffed the air, using his newly enhanced senses to observe the area around them. “Damn! There’s 8 there now, and 12 more on the other side of that hill!” Phoenix cursed. That just means I’ll be having a large lunch, Tempest chuckled.
“No, Tempest. We can’t kill them, remember? We made an oath with King Draco not to kill them.” Phoenix reminded him. Bah! I still don’t see the point of it. Tempest grumbled.
“They’re hunting you dragons because they think you’re all heartless monsters. Eventually, if we keep not killing them, they’ll realize that they’re wrong.” Do you really believe that? Tempest asked.
Before Phoenix could answer, they arrived at Zanrith’s home, or rather, what used to be his home. The combat had obliterated the entire dwelling. Preparing to land, Tempest and Phoenix watched in a peculiar mix of terror and awe as Zanrith and Stardust fought off the attackers. Stardust’s dazzling scales shimmered as he swept across the plain, knocking the Spellcasters off their feet, and usually into each other. Zanrith had donned his sparkling crystal armor. Phoenix noted with a twinge of jealousy that his armor gave him wings like his dragon’s. Zanrith didn’t let them go to waste either. He sped across the battlefield, dodging spells of every kind, all the while swooping in low to knock out a would-be assailant. Why did they call for help? Tempest asked. They seem to have everything in hand.
He had barely finished the though when one of the Spellcasters pulled a small ruby crystal from his robe. Chanting, his eyes turn dark blue as the crystal shone bright gold. He threw it into the air, right into the path of Zanrith. As it came into contact with his chest, it exploded into a sizzling net of energy that bound him tightly. Screaming in pain, he fell to the ground. Stardust roared in outrage and flew over to cover him. He blocked and absorbed numerous spells as the net surrounding Zanrith slowly faded. Stunned, they watched as he took a deep, shaky breath and got to his feet. He conjured his armor once more, but it now lacked considerable luster compared to earlier.
“No...” Phoenix whispered. Shaking his head, he and Tempest roared in rage as Tempest swooped down to stand next to there berated allies. Leaping off Tempest’s back, Phoenix hurried to Zanrith’s side. “Are you alright?” he asked him.
“Phoenix! Tempest! A lot better now that you two are here,” Zanrith replied. “There were four that attacked us this morning, while I was sleeping. We handled them easily, but then the others showed up with those blasted crystals, and things got complicated.”
“What are those things?” Phoenix asked.
“Not quite sure. They seem to be temporarily capable of disrupting a rider’s connection with his dragon. They’re immune to pretty much anything a dragon can dish out. And don’t try to slice them with your sword, they’ll attach to you as surely as if they had hit you.”
“Disrupt the connection....” This information sent Phoenix’s mind reeling. “How could that even be possible?”
“I don’t know, but the scroll mentioned–” Zanrith was cut off by the renewed attack of the Spellcasters, who had just gotten over the shock of Tempest’s landing. Fight now, talk later! roared Stardust. Finally, some sensible words! Tempest laughed as he flew into the crowd of attackers, scattering them like dust in the wind. With a yell, the other 12 enemies that Phoenix had detected earlier joined the battle, running over the hill, firing an assortment of deadly spells and enchantments.
Drawing his blade, Phoenix yelled to Zanrith, “Get behind me!” Slashing his blade sideways through the air, he screamed and channeled Tempest’s power to created a huge screen of wind that would blow away his assailants. Instead, they merely drew small staffs from their robes, and in unison slashed them through the air. Now Phoenix’s windstorm reversed itself, slamming into Phoenix and Zanrith. Tempest and Stardust were also blown backwards. “What the hell was that!?” Phoenix yelled. Turning, he saw one of those stones flying towards a stunned Zanrith. Raising his blade, he once more called upon his dragon’s powers to make a jet stream to knock it away. The crystal was completely unaffected by the gust, and continued on to trap Zanrith again. Too late, he felt a disturbance in the air, and turned to see a crystal sailing towards him as well. He only managed to scream as it hit him, the burning lines of energy instantly knocking him out, forcing his mind back into itself, eliminating his connection with his dragon. For the first time in nearly 800 years, he felt the terror of being alone and in pain.

He roared in outrage as his opponent blasted him backwards. Flipping, he landed on one foot, and used it to launch himself forward, back at his enemy. He raised a clawed hand, aiming it to slam his adversary in the throat. He never connected. Instead, his foe leaned back, letting him sail over him. He angled his powerful wings, preparing to turn an try again, but instead his opponent wrapped his tail around his neck, choking him and stopping his flight. Gagging, he pulled on the thick cylinder of muscle, trying to stop it from crushing his esophagus. Realizing that this was futile, he landed and flipped forward, pulling his enemy with him to slam onto his back. Staggered, his adversary’s tail went slack, and he ripped it off, roaring in triumph. He infused it with energy, turning it to metal, and angled it to strike his foe in the heart. It slid through the flesh easily, and pinned his opponent to the ground. He stepped back to enjoy his enemy’s death throes, knowing their violence would be enough to shatter this prison, and reunite him with– No! Not Now! he thought, feeling the time flow swaying, preparing to shift dimensions. He looked back at his adversary, who was beginning to quiet down, and thought desperately, Just a few more seconds..., but it did no good. Time spun, turning and curving through dimensions once again. He watched in despair as his foe rose, healed and renewed. They clashed again, neither gaining advantage, and for the first time, he wondered, How long can I continue this?

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 5:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

I wonder how the negotiations are going, Lithium pondered as he neared the tower. Reaching it, he landed gracefully halfway up the enormous exterior staircase. I wouldn’t want to be Lord Doom right now, that’s for sure. He recalled that Artorigus had become more and more belligerent in the past weeks. If he wasn’t handled soon, he and his knights would likely break their treaties, endangering the Spellcasters’ supply of Chaos Crystals. Why the mine was in some pitiful little kingdom like Artorigus’ was beyond Lithium. According to legend, they were the fossilized remains of the Emperor Dragon’s blood. By that same legend, the blood had been spilled almost a hundred leagues south of Artorigus’ domain. Even the memories provided by the Black Stone said so, and it was impossible for the to lie. Which reminded him of young Blaak and Eejae’s question – how did they know so much and yet so little about the monk of legend? He intended to ask Doom about this when the meeting was over. He finally reached the oak doors that guarded Doom’s meeting chamber, as well as the completely unnecessary mortal guards.
“Good morning, Abe. Good morning, Lucas. Is Lord Doom in his meeting chamber?”
“Yes, master Lithium, but I wouldn’t advise enter right now. There’s been a great deal of commotion emanating from the room, and I get the feeling Artorigus is being a pigheaded brute.” Lucas confided.
“Which means Lord Doom is bound to be in bad mood,” Abe added “So whatever you need, he’ll probably be more open to it after the meeting.”
“I see. Well, if anyone can calm Lord Doom down, I’d say it’s me, so I’ll take my chances.” Lithium found the mortals rather amusing. They talked quite openly about whatever was on their mind. He admired that in these two, for the last guards had always been obviously terrified of the powerful spellcasters around them.
“Alright, sir, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Lucas said, opening the door.
Thanking him, Lithium walked into the room, and was promptly hit in the face by a flying plate of spaghetti. He stood there, shocked, as it dripped down his face. He watched through the noodles as Artorigus stalked around the room in a rage, unaware of whom he had just insulted. “I told you that my borders are 15 miles EAST of the lighthouse, not West! Insult my territory one more time and you’ll taste my blade, you blasted, supercilious magician!” He stomped over the negotiation table, where Doom was sitting cross-legged, and crouched next to him. Into Doom’s ear he seethed, “You gutless coward. You sit by here and aloofly make unsubstantiated promises of wealth for my people, ‘all you need do is get us those crystals,’ you said. And where is that wealth now?” he roared, slamming his enormous fist down onto the table. It never got there. Doom, with one hand, stopped it from shattering the ceramic table. He slowly stood up, still holding Artorigus’ forearm, thus forcing him to rise as well.
From under his deep hood came a voice so icy, it gave Lithium chills, and he’d been hearing it for the better part of a millennium. “You would do well to remember who you are dealing with here, Artorigus, lest you suffer a rather...indecorous fate. Now, you may wish to humble yourself a little before master Lithium, whom you so rudely seemed to have mistaken for a garbage bin.” With this, he flipped Artorigus across the room, causing him to land on his knees in front of Lithium. Lithium looked down upon the King and coldly raised an eyebrow.
Glowering, Artorigus got to his feet and turned to face Doom. “You just wait, Lord Doom. this insult will not be forgotten.” With an audacious flourish of his cape, he walked out of the room, brushing against Lithium brusquely.
Once he was gone, Lithium turned back to Doom. “I hate it when you do that voice. It’s so freaking creepy.” From under the hood, he caught a glimpse of a wolfish smile that sent even more shivers down his spine. “Come on man, knock it off.”
“Alright, alright,” said Doom. “But you gotta admit, it’s pretty good, no?”
“A little too good. If you keep doing that, people are gonna think you’re some creepy, death loving kind of guy.” Lithium told him.
“That’s the plan.” Doom countered. “I make them see me as they expect to see me: A strangely reclusive and immensely powerful enigma.”
“Hmm. That’s very well, but what about Artorigus?” Lithium asked.
“What about him?” Doom returned, tracing a pattern in the ceramic table.
“You do realize he’ll probably declare war, right?”
“Nay, he’ll merely return to his castle, get wasted with his knights, and wake up tomorrow with the mother of all hangovers and precious little memory of this meeting.”
“Still, his knights are powerful, and angering him may not be the best idea. And he has kept his word with the Chaos Crystals; why not give them some gold like you said?”
“Enough, Lithium. Yes, his knights are powerful, but unless they have Black Luster Soldier himself on their side, they cannot possibly defeat us. As for the Chaos Crystals, my agents within his kingdom have informed me that they are almost finished being mined. All I need do is stall him a little longer, and we’ll have all the Chaos Energy we need to finally wipe out the dragons, once and for all.” With this, Doom flourished his finger, sending flows of energy along the curving, swirling patterns of the table.How can he be so confident about this? Lithium wondered. “But why must we keep these plans between us? Why can’t we tell Rowwdy? Hasn’t he proved his merit, his trustworthiness, his loyalty, and on numerous occasions?”
“I have...other plans for Rowwdy. As captain of my Chaos Command force, I must be careful what he knows. It could...alter his judgment in a fight; make him hesitate to do what is needed.” Doom said delicately. “I need him to be in the best shape and state of mind possible, until we have eliminated those wretched dragons.”
“And once we have? Once the dragons are no longer a threat. What will become of him then?” Lithium pressed.
“Then...then I might consider bringing him into our circle,” Doom said. “And as for when that might happen, I foresee good news on the topic arriving in 3...2...1...”
Just as Doom finished, the young messenger Arkain burst through the door, out of breath. “Lord...L-Lord Do-Doom! Two-two prisoners...ri-rid-riders...and their dragons...”
Lithium walked briskly over to the youth, and quickly chanted an energy restoration spell. “There, that should help. Now, young man, who have they captured?”
Looking at Lithium strangely, the boy looked at the small piece of parchment and addressed Doom. “The ones known as Zanrith and Phoenix.”
“Excellent!” Doom proclaimed. “Where are they now?”
“In the detention block under Grisaille Tower, Block 18 AB – K.” The boy read. He hesitated. “Does this mean we’re closer to winning the war, milord?”
Doom settled his gaze on the boy. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.” With that, he strode over to the shadowy corner and shade-strolled into the cell where the prisoners where. The guards outside the cell heard him and charged in, only to stop in their tracks, baffled. Doom dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be interrogating these men now, make sure we’re not disturbed.” After they left, he turned towards the unconscious riders. “Time to see what power you two have...”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Groaning, Phoenix opened his eyes. His whole body was sore, and he wasn’t sure why. Groggily, he looked around and saw that he was in a small, damp stone room. He looked to his left, and saw Zanrith chained to the wall. “Welcome back.” Zanrith said. Becoming rapidly more awake, Phoenix saw that he was similarly bound. Franticly, he pulled at his chains. “It’s no use.” Zanrith told him.
“Where are we?” Phoenix asked.
“I’m not sure, but I do believe we are underneath the Grisaille Tower in the Spellcaster capital.”
Still a little groggy, Phoenix asked, “Wha-what happened?”
Lip trembling, Zanrith informed him, “They hit us with those crystals, but this time, they didn’t fade away after a while. I stayed conscious long enough to see them–they” he took a shaky breath “They killed our dragons!” he sobbed. “They were standing over us, waiting for the bonds to dissipate, and they didn’t, but they wouldn’t leave! I told them, I ordered them, ‘Leave us, fly, get back!’ but they wouldn’t! They took so many spells, but they just kept on coming! Then, when the Spellcasters seemed to be out of energy, the conjured a catapult, and one of the pulled up a huge crystal the size of a boulder. Then they loaded it up, an launched. They screamed in pain, Phoenix. I had always thought that dragons never scream, they merely roar, but they were screaming. It was the most terrible sound I had ever heard. And then, they came with swords, and they-they” He slumped, unable to go on.
“Tempest,” whispered Phoenix. He couldn’t believe that his friend was gone. They had fought, laughed, and lived together for 798 years, 11 months, and 26 days. How would he go on now... “I-I sh-shou-should have” he stuttered.
“No,” Zanrith spoke as gently as he could. “There was nothing you nor I could do. They thought they could save us by laying down their lives. They obviously thought that we were worth it. We must find a way to turn this situation towards our advantage. You must get a grip over yourself, Phoenix. Use your pain and rage, do not let it use you. You owe it to Tempest. I am sorry that we called for help, but you saw those reinforcements. They were waiting for you two, and then they used those more powerful crystals. If you hadn’t come, they merely would have tracked you down separately. Now, we must come up with a plan.”
His mind still shattered by the news, Phoenix groaned, turned his head to the side, and hurled, long and hard. He groaned some more. “This-this cannot be...” How could they have killed him? He was so powerful! Could Zanrith be lying? But why would he? Oh god, Tempest...how do I-what do I do now? He thought back to when he had first met Tempest. He may have been a toddler, but the binding memory always shines bright in a rider...
Phoenix was two-and-a-half, a little late to be brought to the temple, but Jinlon told his parents, “No matter, if he is to be chosen, a dragon will choose him. Age matters little.” Tears in their eyes, they handed him over. He would never see them again, for once parents bring their children to be tested, they had to wait in another courtyard until the test is over. If their child was not chosen, it was returned, and they leave. If their child was chosen, however, only the parents return home, leaving their child to grow up with the dragons and other riders. They were well cared for, though, for having a worthy child was extremely rare, usually only happening once every generation. Still, as bonding to a dragon made you immortal, riders tended to accumulate.
Phoenix remembered Jinlon smiling down at him. He thought the old man looked funny, and pulled on the strange white thing on his face. “Oh! Ow! Oh, please stop that, young one. My beard is not a toy!” Phoenix just drooled on his sleeve and looked at the puffy white things in the sky. He had never seen them from so high up. They looked like the big, fluffy cookies his mother had made him last night. They arrived at small, wooden door. Jinlon fumbled for the key with one hand, and almost dropped Phoenix as he held him with the other. “Oh! My apologies, little one!” Phoenix again simply drooled on his sleeve and looked at the sky.
They went through the door, and Jinlon shut it behind them. Cut off from his view of the clouds, Phoenix began to cry. Jinlon ignored him, and set him down in the middle of an ornate circular pattern on the floor. Only half of the room had a roof over it, and it was very dark. Phoenix saw two little green dots of light peering out of the darkness. He didn’t know what they were, so he ignored them, and waddled over to a little window in the wall. He tried to climb up some boxes to get to it. When he did, a gust of wind nearly blew him off the boxes. Ducking his head, he put it up again, slowly, and felt the cool air. His mouth opened, and his tongue hung out of his mouth.
He heard a weird sound, and looked back into the courtyard, where he saw a small, minty-green creature, bobbing it’s head. He looked at it for a moment, then crawled down the boxes and over to it. It cocked its head at him, then opened its mouth and squawked. Phoenix saw that it had wings, just like the birds by his house. Squealing with delight, he grabbed them and yanked on them. The little creature squawked again, its eyes huge. It flapped its little wings around, trying to get away, but Phoenix held on to its tail, so all it did was drag the two of them around. Realizing the futility of its efforts, the little creature just slumped to the ground and moaned. Phoenix ignored it, and simply pulled and prodded the rest of it.
When he got to the face, one eye opened up lazily, glanced at him, and closed again as the creature sighed. Wondering if this was some kind of game, Phoenix walked in front of it, slumped onto his belly, closed his eyes, and moaned. Surprised, the creature lifted its head off the ground a little and looked at him. Phoenix peeked out one eye, and then closed it as he saw it look at him. The creature laid its head back down and closed it eyes. With one eye barely opened, Phoenix tensed, and then jumped forward and pounced on the creature, pinning it in a hug like he did the family cat. Shocked, it squawked as they rolled across the patio, struggling to get free. Across one way, across the other, they rolled and wrestled across the courtyard. Finally, the little creature pinned Phoenix to the ground, using its little arms and legs, which Phoenix had thought must not be good for much. It made a weirder squawking than before, and Phoenix realized it was laughing at him. Squirming, he tried to break free, but the creature laughed again, opened its mouth, and blew a big breeze in his face. In his mind, Phoenix heard a word. Lightning. He looked around, but no one was there. The creature nudged his head, and again he heard, Lightning. It was the creature!
From that day, Phoenix and Lightning played together every day, for almost two years. Phoenix didn’t just spend that time playing, though. Some strange men in robes, who he would later learn were the temple monks, came every day and taught him. They taught him how to talk, how to count, and began to show him how to read. Then, one day, Jinlon came to him. Phoenix was 5 now, and was very proud of his vocabulary. He was even prouder that he knew the word, “vocabulary.” He found it rather fun to say. “Ah, Phoenix, my young man! It is good to see you again!” Phoenix didn’t really remember Jinlon that well, and him having shaved his beard off didn’t help. “I hear that you and Lightning have been having fun, eh?” Phoenix nodded. He had learned that the little creature he had met was called a dragon, and the monks said that they were bonded for life. “Well, my boy, it is time you learned more about him. Do you want to do that?”
“Learn what kind of stuff about him?” Phoenix asked.
“Oh, many, many things, Phoenix. How to talk with him, how to train him, and, eventually, how to ride him.” Jinlon’s eyes glittered as he said this.
Phoenix gasped. “Ride him? You mean when he’s flying?” He had grown a lot since he met Lightning, but Lightning had more than doubled in size. He had taken to flying lately, especially when they wrestled, where Lightning would dive-bomb at him, knocking him off his feet. Phoenix had tried to ride him, but had fallen off and skinned both his knees. “You mean you can teach me so that I won’t fall off?”
“Yes,” Jinlon said, “But not until you are both ready. He might be bigger than you, but Lightning still needs to get bigger before ha can really fly, let alone carry someone. You cannot rush this, Phoenix. Do not worry, you’ll have plenty of time.”
And so, for the next 10 years, Jinlon taught Phoenix the art of dragon riding, while the monks continued to teach him of science, literature, and mathematics. He excelled in all areas of study. He had found out from Lightning that he too was getting tutored, by Jinlon’s dragon, Dragluon. Together, they learned the history of dragons, the legends of great riders, and of the wars and peace treaties that dragons and riders had waged and forged for centuries. Lightning grew bigger, and bigger, getting strong, faster, and tougher. Eventually, he was bigger than the courtyard where they had met. Then, finally, came the day that they had been waiting for for 10 years...they day they would learn to fly together. Jinlon and Dragluon brought them out to the main courtyard. “Now then,” said Jinlon, “Today is quite possibly one of the most important days you and your dragon will share. Today, you will fly together. And today is also the day that you shall name you dragon.”
Puzzled, Phoenix said, “But he already has a name.”
Dragluon chuckled. Yes, but that is merely the name the monks gave him when he hatched. In order for you and he to be truly bonded, you must give him a name, a name worthy of his power and strength.
Jinlon nodded. “And tradition states that you must do this during your first flight with him.” He then explained to Phoenix how to mount his dragon, and how to hold on once he did, while Dragluon explained to Lightning how to adjust his flying for having a human rider. They got in position, ready for takeoff. “Alright, now don’t try to take it slow or anything, just jump in and do it,” Jinlon told them. And so they did. Lightning jumped up, spreading his wings, and soared up, up, and up. Phoenix screamed, at first with terror, but then with joy as the exhilaration of the wind kicked in.
“Faster, Tempest, faster!” he yelled. Tempest? Lightning mused. I like it!
“What?” Phoenix asked You just called me Tempest. I guess that’s my new name. I like It.
Stunned that he hadn’t even had to think about it, he shook his head and laughed. “Just go faster, you big reptile, before I change it to Fluffy.” Lightning – no, Tempest, growled, and went into a dead drop- while they were over 500 feet above the monastery. “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Phoenix screamed in pure terror as Tempest threatened to pancake them into a new design on the stone patio below them. Instead, Tempest tilted his wings at the last second, coming in for a violently gusty landing. He snorted, obviously pleased with himself. Phoenix fell more than climbed out of the saddle, and put his hands on his knees. He stood there, gasping, covered in cold sweat, and quivering in every muscle of his body, for about 10 minutes. He heard Jinlon whistle.
“That was some landing, young dragon!” Indeed, thought Dragluon
“So, Phoenix, what is his name?” Jinlon asked, still dusting himself off. “My, but that landing was like a tempest!”
Phoenix and Tempest looked at each other for a moment. Then Tempest laughed, and after a few more moments, Phoenix joined him, until he had lost all strength in his legs, and leaned against his dragon to support himself.
And that was when it all went wrong.
The entire mountain creaked, a huge, echoing, eerie sound. Then it swayed, a full 10 feet at the very least! Phoenix turned to Jinlon and yelled, “What’s happening!?!”
Jinlon grunted, trying to stay on his feet. “I do not know! Stay here, I must go check the perimeter!” He took a running jump, mounting Dragluon swiftly and gracefully. They flew off, but they had barely cleared the walls of the courtyard when a huge explosion of black energy blew up in Dragluon’s face. The great white dragon’s entire body reeled backwards from the basted. Phoenix heard a scream and saw that Jinlon had been knocked off his dragon by the blast, and was hanging to the sheer side of the mountain by a tree root that was sticking out.
“Master Jinlon!” Phoenix yelled. His mind not being considered, he acted on instinct. He ran at Tempest, jumping into the saddle. “Come on, we’ve got to save him!” Tempest grunted his agreement and took off. They flew to the side of the courtyard and circled back around. “My god...” whispered Phoenix. There were at least a hundred men climbing the mountain, all of them in an assortment of colored robes. Spellcasters, Tempest said with a shudder. What should we do?
“We can’t fight them, but we have to save Jinlon!” I’m with you! Let’s save our master! Tempest dived toward were Jinlon was. He had almost reached him when he called out something lost in the wind. Straining to hear him, Phoenix felt an odd trickling sensation at the base of his spine. He turned around to see a huge ball of energy speeding towards them.
“Tempest! Dive!” He cried. Not questioning, Tempest dove 10 feet, landing on the mountain with his clawed feet, struggling to get a good grip, about 20 feet from where Jinlon hung. “Hang on, Master,” Phoenix shouted.
“Does it look like I am going someplace?” Jinlon snapped. “I told you two to stay put!”
“Really? That’s what you’re gonna say? Not, ‘just hurry’, or ‘please hurry’, or ‘don’t worry’, or ‘thank you’? Just, ‘I told you to stay’?”
“Dragluon knows where I am, he’ll be here in a minute!” Jinlon had barely finished speaking when Dragluon started flying towards them. He never got there. Instead, a huge explosion ripped through one of his wings, leaving an enormous tear. Dragluon howled, and fell out of the sky. As he fell beneath the clouds, Jinlon howled, “NOOOO!” and jumped after him, his face contorted with rage and pain.
“Master!” cried Phoenix. Phoenix, they’re coming up this side now! We have to go!
“No!” Phoenix said, tears in his eyes. “We’ve got to save them!” We can’t. We must seek refuge, or we’ll be dead next!
“No! I won’t leave them!” I’m sorry my friend, but it’s not up to you. Tempest took off just before another spell atomized where they had been perched. He flew, dodging all kinds of spells and curses, Phoenix screaming at him and crying that they had to go back.

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Groaning, Zanrith opened his eyes. His whole body was sore, and he wasn’t sure why. Groggily, he looked around and saw that he was in a small, damp stone room. He looked to his right, and saw Phoenix chained to the wall. “Welcome back.” Phoenix said. Becoming rapidly more awake, Phoenix saw that he was similarly bound. Franticly, he pulled at his chains. “It’s no use.” Phoenix told him.
“Where are we?” Zanrith asked.
“I’m not sure, but I do believe we are underneath the Grisaille Tower in the Spellcaster capital.”
Still a little groggy, Zanrith asked, “Wha-what happened?”
Lip trembling, Phoenix informed him, “They hit us with those crystals, but this time, they didn’t fade away after a while. I stayed conscious long enough to see them–they” he took a shaky breath “They killed our dragons!” he sobbed. “They were standing over us, waiting for the bonds to dissipate, and they didn’t, but they wouldn’t leave! I told them, I ordered them, ‘Leave us, fly, get back!’ but they wouldn’t! They took so many spells, but they just kept on coming! Then, when the Spellcasters seemed to be out of energy, the conjured a catapult, and one of the pulled up a huge crystal the size of a boulder. Then they loaded it up, and launched. They screamed in pain, Zanrith. I had always thought that dragons never scream, they merely roar, but they were screaming. It was the most terrible sound I had ever heard. And then, they came with swords, and they-they” He slumped, unable to go on.
“Stardust,” whispered Zanrith. He couldn’t believe that his friend was gone. They had fought, laughed, and lived together for 1,426 years, 7 months, and 12 days. How would he go on now... “I-I sh-shou-should have...” he stuttered.
“No,” Phoenix spoke as gently as he could. “There was nothing you nor I could do. They thought they could save us by laying down their lives. They obviously thought that we were worth it. We must find a way to turn this situation towards our advantage. You must regain control of yourself, Master Zanrith. Use your pain and rage, do not let it use you. You owe it to Stardust. Now, we need to come up with a plan.”
His mind still shattered by the news, Zanrith groaned, turned his head to the side, and hurled, long and hard. He groaned some more. “This-this cannot be...” How could they have killed him? He was so powerful! Could Phoenix be lying? But why would he? Oh god, Stardust...how do I-what do I do now?
“Please, Master Zanrith. Is there anything you can do to get us out of here? Is there anything I can do?” Phoenix was struggling to maintain his composure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zanrith admired his strength, but was still straining to absorb his own loss. “Maybe if we combine our energies, we could break one of our chains.” Phoenix ventured.
With enormous effort, Zanrith forced himself to pull his mind into the present. “No,” He said, considering the plan. “Without our dragons, the energy we’d be able to muster, even together, would be too small to risk using like that.” He searched his own mind. There had to be something out of his millennium-and-a-half of experiences that could help him. Ironically, the only thing he could find to help them was his most recent knowledge: The secret technique portrayed in the Straynier Scroll, an incredibly ancient artifact that Zanrith and Stardust had just retrieved on behalf of Lord Draco. It was written by one of the first riders-The legendary Master Yustone, rider of the ancient dragon Fairy. More than 250,000 years ago, he and his twin brother Star, rider of Fairy’s twin, Pixie, founded the society of dragons and riders that were now ruled by Lord Draco. They had spent the later part of their lives struggling to uncover one powerful mystery.
It has always been known that the power of Chaos nullified all other sources of power, whether it be Dragonic, Magical, or Elemental. However, the Emperor Dragon, the incredible ruler of Chaos, had been a dragon – with full access to both sources: Dragonic and Chaos. Never before or after had this been recorded in the world. The ancient brothers believed that if they found out what allowed this contradiction to exist, and harnessed it, the dragons would be unstoppable. They continued their research for thousands and thousands of years, even when Pixie died, freezing to death during an expedition to the vast southern tundra. This was another mystery – how can a dragon, with a heart of fire, freeze to death? It became widely believed that Yustone and Star had found some clue to the mystery they had been trying to solve, but when they tested it on Pixie, it went horribly wrong, so they came up with that flimsy lie.
But Zanrith now new that wasn’t true. What they Straynier Scroll had told him, plus the nature of those crystals that had been used against them, had led him to a very definitive conclusion: Chaos could be melded with Dragonic power, but at a terrible price. The dragon would lose his heart of fire, the very core of his being. However, the dragon would become one of the most powerful beings to walk the world. The Straynier Scroll had mentioned that to prevent this from causing sheer madness, the dragon would need another mind, one that it would be in contact with incessantly for all eternity. In other words, it would need a rider, and not just any rider, but one whose bond with the dragon was so strong that it would not fade or dim, not even over the greatest distance. But that still didn’t solve the mystery – how did the Chaos Emperor Dragon become so powerful, when he didn’t have a rider? Humans did not begin riding dragons until Star and Yustone – nearly 50,000 years after the Emperor’s Fall.
Thinking back to the legend, Zanrith compared the known and estimated timings in his head. It just about lined up that the Emperor’s disappearance, before he returned to destroy humanity, was very near the time that the Chaos Sorcerer had been slain. That would mean that the great monk of legend, whose powers had always been unknown, must have been – a Chaos Rider, the first and last of his kind! That would explain the depth of his incredible powers, but not why the spellcasters knew of him. One magician had said under torture that they knew of it from some mysterious black stone of power, which contained the memories of all spellcasters past. Given that the man’s fingers had been at stake, Zanrith was inclined to believe he was telling the truth, or at least as he knew it. So how would a Chaos Rider’s memories be stored in a stone that contained the memories of spellcasters? Something didn’t add up, but that was something for future consideration. Right now, there was a secret in the Straynier Scroll that would help hem escape.
“Alright, Phoenix, here’s what we need to do: We need to meditate, and get our minds to sense every living being in this castle. Then, we’ll have to siphon off energy from all the non-sentient ones. Not enough to kill any of them, but knocking them out is alright. Then, we’ll have to channel that energy through our bodies, along the chains, and into the stone itself. Having life energy within it will heat it to the point of melting. Once we do that, we can simply pull out our chains, then pull the life energy out of the walls, fixing them, and back into ourselves. We can then conjure armor, not like our Dragonic armor, but still armor. From there, well, we’re on our own. We’ll have to escape the Spellcasters’ home base without our dragons, or our powers.” Zanrith began meditating even as he finished speaking.
“Are you sure this plan will work?” Phoenix asked.
“No.” Zanrith replied.
Shrugging, Phoenix began meditation.
Zanrith opened his mind, sensing all the creatures in the tower. he was a little shocked at the level of rodent infestation in the castle. All those dragon killing spells, and they couldn’t make one for keeping away rats? Mentally shrugging, he took roughly half of the energy each one had, and felt Phoenix doing the same. When they had taken it from all the rats in the tower, they moved on to the next tower. It, too had a rather disgusting level of pest issues. They drained energy from it as well, and moved on to the third and final tower within their mental range. It however, was nearly rat-free. Zanrith sensed amusement form another mind – was that Phoenix? It felt almost too, well, too old to be Phoenix. Perturbed, Zanrith began analyzing the presence, viewing it from a mental distance that would shield his thoughts. But as soon as he sent a little tendril of thought at it, it became almost like a mirror, showing him nothing but his own mind. No... , Zanrith thought. He had seen this before...someone had manipulated his mind, tricking him into conjuring up another world in which he would be encouraged to do certain tasks, while his puppeteer watched everything, learning any secrets he divulged. The only problem for his puppeteer was that he had let Zanrith really gather this energy, and now he had to put it to good use...

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Pain. Incredible pain. He could not feel it coming to an end, though. He didn’t feel what the stories said. He felt no spiritual change, only the pain of physical death. Could we really be cut off even from Heaven and Hell?[/i], he wondered. He heard his opponent laugh, a cold, bone-chilling sound. It enraged him, but what could he do? Then his helplessness enraged him even more. He could taste his rage, or was that his own blood? It did not matter. He roared, loud and fierce, startling his enemy. He channeled what little energy he had left into moving the enormous meteor that his adversary had pinned him under. With a monumental effort, he succeeded. He looked his foe in the eye.[/i] This. Ends. NOW! he mentally roared.
* * *
Zanrith let the sea of energy he had just gathered flow freely in his mind. Since Phoenix had merely been an illusion, he was also able to get that energy, too. Then he coated his mind in it, creating an impenetrable barrier to cut off his mental assailant. He felt the other presence tremble and recoil at the icy rush of energy before withering and disappearing. With an enormous head rush, he found himself back in reality – a much damper, much colder version of the cell he had found himself in earlier. This time, however, there was a robed figure standing in front of him and Phoenix – the real Phoenix – with his deep hood drawn. He was on one knee, having apparently staggered from the force of his spell breaking. Phoenix was also coming around, groaning, and shaking his head. “What – Where am I?” He looked to his left and saw Zanrith glowering at the other man. “Zanrith? What happened?”
Without taking his eyes off the hooded man, Zanrith told him, “This guy came down here and messed with our minds. A simple subconscious jolt, but it made another world inside our minds, where we conjured up projections of each other and tried to escape. He knew we wouldn’t be able to do it ordinarily, but by making us play out an escape in a fantasy world, he could have us show him secret techniques without taking the risk of us actually escaping.” Zanrith spat. “It’s actually quite clever.”
Shocked, Phoenix stared at the man. “How did you – at least, I’m guessing it was you – break us free?”
From under the hood, they heard a sinister little laugh. “That was my bad, I’m afraid. When I had little old Zanrith gather energy from the rats in the nearby towers to break free, a technique he found in the Straynier Scroll, I found it hilarious that off the three, only mine wasn’t infested with rodents. So I’m afraid I broke character and laughed. He felt my mental presence, realized that it wasn’t you, and then that it was his own mind. I must say, the look on your face, so to speak, was priceless! Regardless, he used the energy to form a sort of mirror wall around his own mind, forcing me out.” He twitched his head, looking in Zanrith’s direction. “That’s another one of those techniques you found, isn’t it? And I must say, that is a puzzling mystery – how do we have the memories of a Chaos rider in our Black Power Stone? I daresay I’ll have to look into it. For now, though, I’m afraid I must be going. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be back soon.” The man promptly walked into a shadow and vanished.
Phoenix stared at him as he left the room. Turning to Zanrith, he said, “He’s an odd fellow, isn’t he?”
Zanrith just glared at him.
* * *
As Doom shadow strolled back into the meeting room, Lithium gave a signal to Arkain to stop talking. The young man had been pleasantly full of surprisingly intelligent questions about Spellcasters. Lithium had a sneaking suspicion as to why. He would have to discuss it more with Doom later. “So, how went the interrogation?” he asked.
Doom sighed. “Somewhat fruitful, but I’m afraid that I may have miscalculated Zanrith’s wit – and my own self-control.” He opened the door a crack. “Lucas, could you please send some men into the Grisailles Tower and Granluon Spire to exterminate the rats in the lower levels?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have them get right on it, sir.” Lucas replied.
“Thank you. And if you could do that as soon as possible, it’d be good. It’s officially a security matter – though an admittedly complex one.” Doom told him. Puzzled, the guard started off. “There. That should stop them from getting out.” Doom muttered.
Lithium began, “How are rodents–”
“Zanrith can siphon off their energy and channel it.” Doom interrupted. Sitting on his chair, he sighed again, and told Lithium of his folly, and how further interrogation efforts would probably fail. “I underestimated him, and now I can’t get my hands on that Straynier Scroll. He sent it with his dragon, you know. I was met by Rowwdy in the cell, and he told me that when they were pinned by the crystals, Zanrith yelled, ordering the dragons to go before he finally passed out. Rowwdy said he told Stardust to go to ‘the fifth place.’ It’s a code phrase of course, but there’s no way I can figure out its meaning unless Zanrith tells me.” Lithium cleared his throat and jerked his head in Arkain’s direction. Doom got up and walked over to the boy, and crouched to be eye level with him. Tilting his head, he considered the boy. His eyes twinkled and he smiled. “We can trust him. After all, he’s my new advisor.”
Arkain’s face lit up. “Seriously, my Lord?”
Doom rolled his eyes. “Yes, seriously, Arkain. And you don’t have to call me Lord any more, you can just call me Doom.”
Arkain glanced at Lithium. Lithium gave a little chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he told the boy. “You’ll get used to it.” This was exactly how Doom had picked him as his advisor. “Although, that’s not quite the outfit for a Spellcaster-in-training...and who will be training him, Doom?” he asked, looking at the messenger’s outfit Arkain was wearing.
Doom thought for a moment, and said, “Why don’t you train him, Lithium? This way you can train him as both a Spellcaster and an advisor.”
Lithium smiled. “My thoughts exactly, Doom.”
“Now, back to the important topic: How can I get that scroll? According to Zanrith, not only does it contain hundreds of secret and powerful techniques, not all of which are Dragonic, it was also written by Yustone himself.”
“The founder of the riders?” asked Arkain.
“Yes,” said Lithium. “And if it was written by him, odds are it contains some techniques that Spellcaster can use. But if that dragon has it...I suppose you’ll want Rowwdy to hunt it down?”
“No, I need him here right now. I can’t take the risk that the Dragons will retaliate and attack us. We’d kill them if they try, for sure, but Rowwdy and his Chaos Command magicians would prevent a lot of collateral damage.” Doom paused. “I just realized something – Artorigus might go seeking alliances if he does choose to challenge us. If he did, then the only ones who would consider him would be...”
“The Dragons.” Lithium finished. “Dragons are bad, but can be handled. Those Knights of his are bad, but can be handled. Together, though, the could probably still be handled, but there would be collateral damage – and lots of it.”
“If Artorigus can ally with the Dragons, they may seek the help of the Ninjas.” Arkain added. “Ninjas would be hard to handle, even on their own. Plus, the Ninjas rely on individual skill, not any sort of power, so the Chaos Crystals would be useless.”
Lithium and Doom stared at each other. “Damn,” Lithium said. “This kid’s good. I didn’t even think about that. But are the odds in favor for them to make an alliance? The Ninjas have very little trust for anyone.”
“Yes, but that includes us,” Doom countered. “And as the most powerful faction, they’d trust us the least.” He walked over the tower’s balcony. Gripping the rail, he looked down at the beautiful metropolis of the Spellcasters. It’s founders had agreed that it should never be given a name, which made it a frustrating topic for conversation. Doom had been the reigning sovereign here for 14,682 years, 7 months, and 22 days. He had vowed to never let anyone destroy it, placing the well-being of it and its populace above all other concerns. To think that in less than a month, there could enemy armies marching through the streets was unacceptable. He bit his lip, considering his options. He turned back to his advisors.
“As I see it, we really only have two viable options: We could put up bases, a few between each other faction and ourselves. This would enable us to fight the multiple fronts more efficiently. However, we would be more scattered, thus lacking in overall forces. To solve this, we could propose an alliance to the Six Samurai. As users of Elemental powers, they might consider it in their best interest to fight the Ninjas.”
“If the Ninjas declare war on us, they’ll probably come running to help.” interrupted Arkain.
Lithium looked at him curiously. “And why is that?”
Arkain turned a little red, but continued on to say, “Because Ninja Grandmaster Hanzo slept with the Samurai Grandmaster Kizan’s wife.”
Doom suddenly burst out laughing. Startled, Lithium soon joined him, and then Arkain began laughing as well. The trio sat there for some time, until young Arkain began wheezing. “Alright,” Doom chuckled. “Let’s stop, before Arkain’s spleen explodes.” Lithium managed to clear his throat into silence. “Now,” Doom continued, “While that was most insightful, Arkain, thinking of the Ninjas, there is one thing that you do not know.” Doom walked back over to the railing. “Some time ago, I’m not sure when, my spies began to report some pretty intense lights and energy waves, far too much for the minor amounts of energy produced by their Ninjitsu Arts. The Spellcasters there at the time were not experienced at classifying energy, and I’ve not dared send more spies for fear of discovery.” Doom bowed his head. “The Ninjas are probably the only group I’m truly afraid of,” he confided. “There’s no amount of trickery in the world that can fool them, and their skills are powerful enough to rival any magic. And then I heard this...” He stared down at the nighttime city below him. “Nothing can be confirmed, so I haven’t revealed this to anyone, but I believe that the Ninjas have obtained new power. Dragonic power.”
“So you mean that the Dragons gave them power?” Lithium asked, knowing full well that was not what he meant.
“No. If there’s one thing my spies are sure of, it’s that there has been no communication between the Dragons and the Ninjas, neither from 2 years before the incident, nor since. Whatever this Dragonic power is, they seemed to have unlocked it from within themselves...which makes me wonder: how will the Chaos Crystals affect someone whose power is connected to their life force?” Doom continued to gaze down at the beautiful downtown. All these people...they may soon be exposed to war. No, he thought, I will not let that happen. He turned back to his advisors. “We must go to the Samurai. If we can convince them to attack the Ninjas, we may be able to prevent the Dragons from gaining them as allies, and perhaps even prevent the war itself.”
“I see you’ve changed your mind about Artorigus’ plan.” Lithium commented dryly.
Doom rolled his eyes and smirked at Lithium. “I’ve been scrying him since he left. He’s currently holding a meeting with his advisors about allies. His right-hand man, Borz, has been talking about possible allies.” Doom turned back to the rail. “It was all just drunken bluster before he spoke up, but now it’s beginning to turn into serious conversation.” he gritted his teeth. “Thanks to those infernal swords, I can’t influence their minds.”
Arkain stood, dumbstruck at the extent of Doom’s powers. He tried to clear his mind. He couldn’t have his mind wandering at a time like this. He thought about what Doom had said about the potential Dragonic Ninjas. “If the Ninjas have their own, independent Dragonic powers, they might be more suspicious of the riders.” he threw out.
Lithium considered this. “True,” he said, “But all the minor misgivings in the world won’t sway them to pass up on an alliance against us. It looks like this war will line up with the Dragons, Artorigus’ Knights, and the Ninjas on the one side, with Artorigus being the most likely public leader, and us and the Samurai on the other.” He looked at Doom. “That’s pretty one-sided, even for us. Aren’t their any other allies we can call upon?”
Doom thought for a moment before saying delicately, “None that we would want to be seen fighting with publicly.”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Almost..., Wallace thought, just a little more to the left... He stealthily raised the dart, silently preparing to throw, and took careful aim. He began moving his arm forward, and – “Gah!” he cried out. Another dart had hit him, catching his shoulder and launching him backward, effectively pinning him to the tree behind him. His own dart fell from his hand, clattering onto the ground. Startled, the doe ran off. Fantastic, he thought, watching his meal get away. He pulled out the dart, and slowly spun around, drawing his short blade from his thigh. He eyed the woods, looking for the attacker. A flash of silver caught his eye, and his blade flicked out at it, almost without thought. The two halves of the dart fell to the ground. They hadn’t even bounced when a third dart flew out. He failed to detect this one, and it slammed into his blade, jarring it out of his hands. It sang as it soared 15 feet into a second tree.
He gingerly rubbed his sore hand, and, failing to see his assailant, sighed and called out, “Alright, I give. Is that you, Yusei?” The back of his neck tingled, and he ducked. A highly sharpened dart flew over his head, and through a tree. “Holy..” he muttered. He spun back around, alert. He caught the faintest glimpse of movement to his left, and slung two darts towards it. He heard a thunk as one connected with a tree, and a slight hiss that he recognized as a sleeve tearing. He jumped forward, landing on one foot on a tree trunk, and launched from it onto another, and another, and then leapt down to where his dart landed. He pulled it from the tree. Keeping his back to the tree, he scanned the area for any trace of his opponent.
Seeing none, he turned to leave, and came face-to-face with a masked figure. He flinched, startled, and drove his knuckles into the man’s diaphragm. It never made it. Instead, the man caught his hand, flinging it to the side. Wallace continued, throwing attack after attack at the figure, until their battle had carried them in a huge circle around the tree. Not a single blow landed. By the time they had completed the circle, he was almost out of breath. The man backstepped, dodging a huge blow towards his head. I’ve got you now!, Wallace thought. He slid his foot forward, throwing his other foot out in a savagely swift kick at the man’s left knee. He never connected. Instead, the man’s left leg flashed out, catching Wallace’s, twisting it sharply to the left. Completely robbed of all balance, he fell to the ground, his forehead slamming into a root.
“Just as clumsy as ever.” said a vaguely familiar voice. Wallace knew he’d heard it before, but he couldn’t recall who it was. He dragged himself off the ground, holding his throbbing head.
“Wh-who are you?” He managed. He thought he heard an amused chuckle, but he wasn’t sure.
“Alright, easy, man, easy,” The stranger told him, grabbing his shoulder and chest. “I didn’t mean to give you a concussion, Wallace.” Wallace staggered out of the man’s grip and vomited as he leaned against a tree. He tried to stumble away, but got 10 feet and fell on his face. “Oh, come on, man, don’t die on me.” the stranger asked. Not hearing a response, he called out, “Wallace?” Still nothing. He walked over to where Wallace had fallen, and discovered he wasn’t there. A split second later, a huge cluster of throwing knives stabbed through his shirt, completely pinning him to a tree. He tugged, but couldn’t get sufficient leverage.
Wallace dropped down from a nearby tree and stalked over to him. “Who. The. Hell. Are. YOU?” He yelled, tearing back the stranger’s mask. “No way...” he whispered. “Spark?”
Spark grinned. “Again, sorry about the concussion thing. You OK?”
Wallace couldn’t believe his ears, or his eyes, or the size of the lump on the back of his head. “I-I do – don’t - ” he began, and promptly passed out.
“Aw, [bleep].” Spark muttered. He tugged against the knives again. How the hell am I supposed to get him help if I can’t move? I’ve got to get loose!, he thought. He craned his neck, trying to bite his teeth on the handle of the knife pinning his right shoulder. Almost...almost...got it! He grunted with effort. Man! When did he learn to throw knives this well?, he wondered. Then he remembered that Wallace had believed the he was fighting for his life. Oops. His neck tendons cracked as the knife gave way, and his head flung out to the left. He repeated this on his other shoulder, then his left armpit, followed by his right elbow and both wrists. From there it was easier to remove the ones pinning his hips, left knee, right ankle, and both feet. 11 knives...and all with perfect precision. Not bad, but wait until he sees what I’ve learned.
He stooped down, grabbing Wallace’s legs. He pulled him only a few feet before his head hit a rock. “Guess I better carry him by the head...” he conceded aloud.
“Nah, man, I got him,” someone said, from directly behind Spark. He spun, knife in hand, and had his wrist caught in a deadly strong grip. “Ah, come on, is that any way to say hello?” The newcomer threw the arm to the side almost lazily. “Surely your private training covered the same basics we did, Spark. How could you not hear me?”
It took him a minute, but Spark managed to place the face in his memory. “Yusei!” he yelled. Then he remembered Wallace. “Oh, dude, look, I swear to god, I didn’t –”
“Relax, man. I saw the whole thing. I was about to do the same thing you did when you jumped in.” He glanced down at Wallace. “Come on, you grab his legs, I’ll get his arms. I’ll lead.”
Spark obeyed. “Where are we headed?” he asked as they picked up the pace to a jog.
“To my house!” Yusei called over his shoulder. “My dad’s the village doctor now, ever since Grandfather Dian passed away a few years ago.”
“Really? Old Keto bit the big one?” Sparks said in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Yusei told him. “He bought this potion from some old man that came to the village. It was supposed to be a powerful cure, but it turned out to be a deadly poison. He tried to use it as medicine on some newborn, but he didn’t know. When the kid died, he was so ashamed that he drank the rest of it.”
Spark was silent for a few moments. “Damn,” he said finally. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” Yusei admitted. “but my dad’s got a pretty good handle on things. Trust me, this isn’t the first time Wallace has gone to him – or rather, been taken to him – for some bad injuries.” He jumped over a tree root and picked up the pace again. “He’s made a couple of enemies with some other guys here. They attack him once in a while, leave him pretty messed up. This is nothing.” He looked back at Spark’s angry face. “Don’t worry, you should see the other guys.”
Sparks was still mad. “Why isn’t Sarge making them back off?” A dark shadow crossed over Yusei’s face.
He turned back around. “I’ll let Wallace explain that to you.” Spark was confused, but Yusei just picked up the pace even further and told him, “Come on, we’re almost there!” They reached the village gates, an impressive wall spread between two huge, multi-level archery towers. Spark knew it was fortified from the back with huge iron plates. “Come on, we’ll go through one of the towers!” Yusei led them off to the side of one of the towers, into a little, well-concealed side door. “Come on, come on.” Yusei panted. They stumbled through the main entry door and spilled out into the street. “Pick him up, we’re just down the street!” Yusei wheezed. They ran down the main street, turned left, and went in the third house on the left.
“Dad!” Yusei yelled out. “It’s Wallace again!”
“Alright, bring him on up. What is it this time? Or is it everything?”
“Seems to be just a concussion!”
“Finally, a break.” Spark heard him mutter. “Come on, bring him up here.” Yusei led them up a set of stairs recessed into the wall. They reached the top and found themselves in a long, open room with a slanted ceiling. It would have been nice without all the sick people. “Over here, Yusei, this bed’s open” Yusei’s father called over his shoulder. With difficulty, they managed to get Wallace’s limp form onto the bed. They stood there, panting as they leaned against the bed frame. Spark adjusted his position a little, and the whole thing creaked like it was about to fall apart. He jumped back, for fear of breaking something on his first day back.
Yusei’s father walked over to the bed and checked Wallace’s head. “Oh my,” he said, “Even by his standards, that’s a pretty big knot on his head there. Who was it this time? McLanner? Or were you two horsing around again?” he asked sternly.
Yusei rolled his eyes. “First, dad, it’s not ‘horsing around,’ it’s called sparring, and it’s also homework. Second, it was Spark here.” Yusei’s father rolled his eyes, then looked at Sparks for he first time.
“Well, if it isn’t little Spark Forgame, all grown up! Tell me two things, boy; where is your father, Hinotama, and what happened to Wallace here?”
Spark and Yusei quickly explained what happened to Wallace, and silently agreed to paint Spark in the best light possible. “Well,” said Yusei’s father. “I’ll just assume that Spark is twice as guilty as you say, but if that’s really all that happened to him, he’ll just need some good rest, though a few painkillers might help. And where is that father of yours, Spark?”
“Oh, he’s staying at my mom’s village for a few more months.” He glanced guiltily at Wallace again. “You sure he’ll be alright?”
“Yes, quite.” Yusei’s father told him.
“Good,” Spark sighed. “So how have things been around here lately? I think I remember it being a little more lively.”
Yusei and his father looked at each other. “You didn’t tell him?” his father accused.
“I figured it’d be best to wait until Wallace told him.” Yusei defended. “It was his brother, after all.”
Yusei’s father looked incredibly saddened. “Yes, I suppose it is. Well, Spark, let me leave at this for now: there have been...incidents lately that have given rise to...tension between the Ninja and Samurai.” He looked out the nearby window at the empty street. “Much has changed since you’ve been gone, Spark, and in ways that I fear may never be changed back.”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Lord Draco inwardly sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. A messenger had informed the council that, approximately seven hours ago, Zanrith and Phoenix had been captured in a daring strike by the Spellcasters upon Zanrith’s home. They had immediately began debating about, of all things, who should read the official declaration to start the meeting. Pointless, circular squabbles that did nothing to help the fact that two of the best riders in the world were captured. He was almost ready to have Blue-Eyes blast them all to bits. “ENOUGH!” he finally roared. “None of your petty squabbles are helping the fact that two of the best riders in the world were just captured! Seeing as it is so much of a problem, I’m abolishing the opening declaration rule for today.” This earned many hard glares from the other councilmen.
One of them, Boltage, rider of Galaxy-Eyes, spoke up. “Just because they were from your clan doesn’t make them more important than any other riders. So you don’t just get to throw tradition to the winds to try and make up for your failures.” he jabbed snidely.
Draco simply stared at him with a bored expression. Boltage glared back. Draco continued his stare, not blinking. Eventually, Boltage broke the contact with a snarl. “As I was saying,” Draco resumed. “We have a far more important matter here: Zanrith was on his return trip from a mission that I sent him on. His mission was to recover the ancient Straynier Scroll.”
Phazed, rider of Red-Eyes, gave him a rather sharp look. “The council didn’t approve any missions.”
Draco looked back at him. “The council’s approval is not needed for me to send a rider from my clan on a mission. If I wanted to send someone from your clan, I would need it, but not from my clan..”
At this, Sky, rider of Odd-Eyes, chimed in with, “That may be, Lord Draco, but something of that magnitude, with such significance to all dragons and riders, should warrant a council meeting.”
Draco put his hand to his forehead. “Look, we’re losing objectivity here. Zanrith and Phoenix have been captured. If we do not free them, the knowledge of the Straynier Scroll will be lost, again. It took us nearly 200,000 years to track it down this time, and I don’t want to lose it, or my two best riders.”
“You don’t want to lose it?” Boltage asked incredulously. “The Straynier Scroll belongs to my clan!”
“Did I not just say that this is significant to all the clans?” Sky said testily. “Your ancestor may have been it’s author, Boltage, but the knowledge of the scroll was meant for all riders. Think before you speak.”
“ENOUGH!” Draco roared again. “I will not let this meeting continue to be a waste of all our time. Boltage, I acknowledge your...irritation...at my haste, but the lead was time-sensitive, and I had to act. Now, as for the rescue mission, the best chance we have is to conduct a mission at night. Therefore, I believe that Red – Eyes Wyvern would be the best dragon suited to this task. Therefore, he and his rider Lordrag will embark immediately upon this quest. They should arrive shortly after nightfall tomorrow. All in favor of this plan say aye.”
“Aye,” called Phazed.
“Aye,” called Sky.
“Aye,” called Boltage, after a moment.
“Then it’s settled. Phazed, if you would go speak to Lordrag, and Sky, please send scouts ahead of him.” Draco dismissed the meeting with a clap. The other three council members filed out of the room, leaving Draco alone in his throne. He groaned and leaned back. I don’t see why you must put up with their petty arguments, let alone answer them with ones of your own., Blue-Eyes spoke in his mind.
Draco chuckled. “Because, believe it or not, my friend, it makes everything much, much easier than if we just had a war over ever little decision.” It be a lot more interesting, though. Blue-Eyes tempted.
Draco chuckled harder. “Yes, yes it would. But you realize that we’d probably end up losing, eventually, right?” As it should be. No dragon can be king for too long, it’ll wear him down. Blue-Eyes reached the council room and stuck his head in the window. He tilted his head as he looked at Draco. I believe this applies to humans as well, even immortal ones.
“What are you saying?” Draco asked.
Blue-Eyes removed his head and looked up at the sky. I’m not even sure. Lately, I’ve been sensing...something. Something that deep down, I recognize, even if I have no idea what it is, and that little bit of recognition has me very, very worried. And I can’t help but feeling that it signals our time coming to an end.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Could it be the Spellcasters? Some new magic they’ve come up with?”
Blue-Eyes closed his eyelids and breathed deeply. No, that’s not quite it. I can’t, how you say, put my finger on it, but it feels almost...older than magic. The more I sense it, the more it troubles me. I was eating a sheep yesterday when I felt it somewhat peak, and I felt a deep, deep fear, at the very core of my being.
“Ancestral memories...” Draco whispered, and opened his mind up to Blue-Eyes, letting him look at the information himself. Yes, perhaps...it does fit...but what would my ancestors have been afraid of? They were of the fourth generation and earlier, they were nearly gods in these lands. The only thing they weren’t as powerful as had them outstripped by miles... Blue-Eyes’ mind faded into a worried silence.
Draco examined the dragon’s mind, and his face paled in terror. “You don’t really think it could be...” I do. confirmed Blue-Eyes. It’s far to weak to be him, and yet there is nothing else that would fit this...feeling. He looked down at the ground. And yet, if it is him, why would I sense this, and not his power? I know the feeling of Chaos all too well, and this is not the power of Chaos. He snorted in frustration and looked back up at the sky. So many questions, and so few answers...
* * *
Phazed walked out of the council chamber and immediately donned his Dragonic armor. He spread its wings and took off, soaring up to where Red-Eyes was waiting in the sky. Hello, Phazed., the dragon spoke. So, how was the meeting?
Phazed gracefully flipped over his dragon’s head to land squarely on Red-Eyes’ back. “Surprisingly productive. Draco finally put his foot down a bit on Boltage, got him to shut up long enough to pass a motion and give some orders. Speaking of which, we’re off to go see Lordrag and your brother.” Wyvern? Fantastic! Red-Eyes roared. I haven’t seen him in far too long. He dove, gaining momentum before swooping back up to the clouds, speeding towards Phazed’s clan’s camp. So, what’s the mission? He asked.
“Zanrith and Phoenix have been captured, and are being held in the Spellcaster’s capital city. Their job is to break them out...discretely.”
Red-Eyes was silent for a few moments. And how the hell are they supposed to do that, exactly?
“I have no idea.” They rode in silence for the rest of the way. After a few minutes, Phazed saw that they were over Lordrag’s home. “Alright, let’s land here, Red-“ A huge shadowy figure knocked them out of the sky towards the nearby lake. At the last second, Red-Eyes recovered, his talons skimming the surface of the water below them. Phazed grunted as inertia threw him flat onto Red-Eyes’ neck. “Alright, enough.” he called out.Indeed, Red-Eyes said. Wyvern, that is not funny.
“I don’t know,” called out Lordrag, from Wyvern’s back. “Looked pretty funny to me.”
“Enough,” Phazed repeated. “We’ve got an important mission for the two of you.” They all regrouped by Lordrag’s house. Together, Phazed and Red-Eyes filled them in.
When they were finished, Lordrag sat down on a nearby tree stump and said, “And how the hell are we supposed to do that, exactly?”
Red-Eyes chuckled. That’s what I said.
Phazed looked at Lordrag. “Well, it’s like Lord Draco said. The two of you are the stealthiest in all of the clans. If anybody can pull this off, you guys can. Your orders are to leave immediately. Good luck. You’re gonna need it. And don’t forget, Sky’s clan will have a few scouts out there, so if you get into trouble, they can act as a messenger line or, as a last resort, reinforcements.”
Lordrag shook his head. “If I die, tell Lord Draco he’s crazier than a soup sandwich.” He took a running jump, landing on Wyvern, and they took off.
Red-Eyes and Phazed watched them fly off. They’ll be fine. Red-Eyes assured him.
Phazed broke his gaze and walked back to Red-Eyes. “No,” he said. “They won’t”[/spoiler]

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.

“Are they going to kill us, or what?” Phoenix asked. It had been three days since anyone had spoken to them, or at least as far as he could figure. They had been fed 6 times since they got here, and his stomach knew they weren’t getting three meals a day. The guards, always the same four, would come in, and one would unchain Zanrith’s left arm, while the other three held him down. The first guard would then wrap the chain around Zanrith’s neck. They would repeat this for both hands on both prisoners, then two guards would bring the food trays in, and levitate them near the bottom of their ribcages. They would eat, and then their chains would be readjusted, and the guards would leave.
Zanrith only sighed. “Not if you make them think death would be nice.” He had been interrogated by the hooded man, who they learned was none other than Lord Doom himself, two more times since his first failed attempt. Zanrith had given nothing more away to him, but he knew that, by failing to detect the false reality, he had crushed their best, and probably only, chance to escape. Phoenix wasn’t in much better spirits, but he was certainly more talkative. Perhaps he’s hoping no one will volunteer to guard a motormouth, he thought with a smile. Then he sighed again. Their chances were so slim, they weren’t even worth joking about. They were Riders, captured by Spellcasters. Never before had anyone in their position ever escaped or been rescued.
“I’m not saying it would be nice, just a little bit more interesting.” Phoenix replied.
Zanrith raised an eyebrow and turned his head to face him. “And how, exactly, would death be more interesting?”
“Well, for starters, we’d finally learn what happens after.” Phoenix told him.
“And what if it’s nothing? What if death’s it?”
“Well, I suppose it’d really only be interesting at the moment it happens.” Phoenix amended.
They looked at each other for a moment, before bursting out laughing. Not because it was a good joke, but because they both knew Phoenix was right. It therefore didn’t take long before they calmed down. Once they did, Phoenix let out a long, low whistle. The air seemed to thicken a little, and Zanrith noticed that he no longer heard anything else. He blinked. “What did you just do?” he asked.
Phoenix grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Just a little trick I learned from Jinlon.” He began worming his arm around and around. “You see, sound travels on air, but magical scrying can hear it even in a vacuum. I can normally manipulate air, thanks to Tempest, but Jinlon taught me a little magic.” he told Zanrith. “You see, by using the right whim, I can manipulate sound on both levels – air and magic. I just needed a little positive energy. That’s why I’ve been trying to tell jokes this whole time, so you would laugh.”
Zanrith was stunned. “Jinlon taught you this?”
Phoenix chuckled. “I was trying to be modest. He taught me the underlying principles, like how to focus magic into my Dragonic powers, but I’m the one who actually developed the technique. We’ve got about 15 minutes before this wears off, so lets talk escape. Now, I’ve been extending my mind in my sleep, and if my math’s right, which it normally is, we can absorb enough energy from the guards to knock them out and break our chains. Once we do, though, we’ll be completely on our own. We won’t have enough time to recoup more energy before the guards on the floor above come charging down on us. So, I really hope you’ve got something for the second half.”
Zanrith tried to put his shock at Phoenix’s ability aside and rack his brain for a solution. “If we could only bond to our dragons, just for a minute, we’d have power enough to destroy this tower. As it is, we’re powerful, but there’s no way two people can fight their way through like this. Without our dragons, our senses would be normal in battle.” He sighed. “And there’s of course no way to bond with them...”
“Maybe we don’t need to bond with them.” Phoenix blurted. Zanrith could see his mind racing.
“But I just said–” he began.
“Tell me, Zanrith, when we meditate, how is it that we can sense things beyond our ordinary human perception?” Phoenix interrupted.
Zanrith thought for a moment. “By tapping into the web of the life energy of all the organisms around us. We can focus, see the web, and observe the beings within it.”
Phoenix shook his head, panting. “No, that’s not quite it. It’s more like cracks on glass. Every time they hit a weak point, they make a new split, gaining more power.” He looked at Zanrith with a gleam in his eye. “Don’t you see?” he panted. “We don’t observe the flow of energy, we can’t observe it, that’s not within ordinary human perception. We form bonds with the organisms around us and borrow their senses. That’s how we increase our perception – by borrow other being’s. And it’s the same with our Dragonic senses when we bond with our dragons – we’re borrowing[i/] our dragons’ senses, using them to augment our own.”
“Okay,” Zanrith began again, “But I don’t see how that helps us–”
“We can bond with each other, like we do with our dragons! We can use each other’s senses, and fight as one!” Phoenix exclaimed.
Zanrith considered it. “Well, I’m open to trying it. It seems like our only shot.”
“Then let’s begin.” Phoenix said with determination. He closed his eyes. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking at Zanrith. “I forgot, I can’t maintain this silence thing while we’re bonding, so be silent.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Zanrith said.
They closed their eyes again. Zanrith cast out his mind like he did when he meditated to extend his mind. This time, however, he stopped it as soon as he found Phoenix. Zanrith tapped into his mind as if it were Stardust’s. As soon as they came into contact, a flood of information slammed into Zanrith’s conscious, almost knocking him out of the link. He pushed on with his mind, not letting himself be swept away in the current. The harder he struggled, though, the harder the current resisted. He focused, channeling his mental energies into a shield to block the surging tide. He pressed on, ignoring all else, determined to succeed. He reached out, about to touch the source of the surge. Almost, he thought.
A sudden sensation from his body jerked him back to reality. He hung by his chains, gasping and sweating. He felt something cold, wet, and slimy on his cheek. Looking at Phoenix, he realized, “D-did you spit on me?”
Panting, Phoenix answered, “Yes. Zanrith, when you were fighting my mind, you weren’t fighting for bonding, you were fighting for control. You didn’t realize it, but you were forcing my mind out of itself. I had to give your mind a message, and it was the only thing I could think of.” He paused for a moment. “I think I know what the problem was, though.”
“What was it?” Zanrith demanded.
“When we tried to link, we began the link at different moments. You began first, so instead of finding my tendril of thought, you instead just kept going and slammed into my mind.”
Zanrith tried to picture it in his head. “Alright, I guess that explains it. So does this mean you wish to try again?”
Phoenix hesitated. “Yes, but this time, instead of reaching out right off the bat, lets try simply pulsing our conscious to signal each other, so we can better our timing.”
Zanrith nodded, and they began again. This time, though, once he sensed Phoenix’s mind, he merely expanded his white aura of awareness to that point. He felt Phoenix do the same with his green aura. Once their minds were in each other’s awareness, he slowly sent out a stem of mental energy, and noted Phoenix doing the same. The two tendrils met each other in the middle, and began coiling around each other. The green tendril met Zanrith’s mind at the same moment the white tendril met Phoenix’s mind. At that moment, their auras flashed and blazed as one, united mint-green aura. Zanrith felt his identity merging with Phoenix’s, and vice versa. They opened their now mint-green eyes. They were no longer two separate minds; they were a single entity, shared between two bodies.
Fully merged, the entity pondered his name. Phanrith? Zanix? Zanix seemed to fit better. He focused, and found that he scarcely needed any energy or focus to sense the puny minds of the guards outside his cell. With ease, Zanix drained enough energy from their auras to put them in comas for a few hours, then channeled that power into his bodies. From there, he pulled Zanrith’s arms forward and down, ripping the chains out of the wall, then ripping off the chains around his legs and freeing the body. He repeated the maneuver with Phoenix’s body. With both bodies, he walked over to the four-inch thick metal door, channeled his energy, and blasted it off its hinges.
He hurried, running them both up the stairs on the far side of the room. Zanrith had almost reached the door when it flew open, and five more guards rushed out of it. Zanrith and Phoenix backflipped down the stairs, landing next to each other, ready to fight. The first guard jabbed a punch at Zanrith’s head so fast no human could ever have seen it coming. But Zanix did. He moved Zanrith’s arm up to block, sweeping the punch away like a dust bunny. Then he sent Zanrith springing into the air, grabbing the back of the guard’s head while simultaneously ramming his knee into the man’s face.
At the same time, the second and third guards charged at Phoenix. The third guard swept his foot towards Phoenix’s ribcage at a blistering speed. Zanix arched Phoenix’s back, causing him to fall backwards on his hands with his knees bent. The man’s kick kept going, spinning the man and sailing directly into the gut of the second guard. Zanix had Phoenix spin left onto his hands and knees to avoid the stream of vomit, then push off into the air backwards, landing with one foot on the third guard’s head.
Zanrith landed in a crouch in front of the fourth guard, and held himself up on his hands as he swept both legs out to level his opponent. As they turned him around, he tucked them back under his body into a crouch. He then vaulted into the air, flipping over at the jump’s peak, and landing with both feet squarely on the man’s ribs.
Phoenix flipped forward, grabbing the third guard’s head as he landed back-to-back with him, and continued the momentum to throw the man into the fifth guard, instantly knocking out both men.
Zanix stopped for a moment and admired the efficiency of his first fight with his bodies. Five men in three seconds. Not bad. He hurried his bodies up the stairs. Once he got to the top of the steps, he couldn’t see another set of stairs in the room. Zanix heard a small creaking above Phoenix’s head, and rolled Phoenix forward as a set of trapdoors opened up, dumping another ten guards down to their level. Three ran at Phoenix, four at Zanrith, while the other three hung back as reinforcements.
Zanix bent Zanrith low as the four men charged at him. He launched Zanrith forward off one foot. As he flew by the sixth guard, Zanix threw out Zanrith’s arm, socking the man squarely in the jaw. Using the momentum, Zanix spun Zanrith around, letting his legs lead the turn so he fell sideways onto his extended right hand. The spin swept the seventh’s guards legs out from under him, and Zanix had Zanrith continue the spin, but also throw his legs into the air, putting Zanrith into a handstand, which Zanix had him then backflip out of.
As the three men flew at Phoenix, Zanix had him wait until the last possible second before leaping high into the air, flipping forward to grab the heads of the eighth and ninth guards and slam them together. Zanix heard a satisfying crunch through Phoenix’s ears as the men collapsed. Zanix continued Phoenix’s flip to slash a downward kick onto the tenth guard’s head. Zanix further continued the flip to land Phoenix behind the collapsing guard. He then sent Phoenix charging to engage the other three men.
As Zanrith landed from his backflip with the eleventh guard directly behind him, Zanix threw Zanrith’s arm up in a savage elbow strike. The man’s face completely gave way as the blow connected. Zanix rammed Zanrith’s palm forward into a devastating impact onto the twelfth guard’s throat, crushing the man’s windpipe.
As Phoenix neared the other three guards, the thirteenth and fourteenth moved to intercept as the fifteenth began a spell, chanting and gathering his energies. Zanix threw Phoenix into a forward slide on his back, each of his hands grabbing one of the guards’ legs as he passed them. Zanix spun him to get him back on his feet, and maximized the momentum of the maneuver, sending the two men careening into the final guard. Without missing a beat, Zanix formed a cup with Phoenix’s hands and launched a jumping Zanrith through the trapdoor. Zanix noticed through Zanrith’s eyes that the floor was suspiciously empty as he extended Zanrith’s arms to catch and pull a jumping Phoenix through the door. He walked them to the door on the far side of the room. As they passed through, Zanix felt a piercing pain in his mental energy, losing his hold on his bodies. Falling to all four of his knees, he felt his mint-green mental aura begin to divide like a cell, into two smaller auras; one green, one sparkling white. The auras continued to split, until they were held together by only a single thread, which rapidly degenerated into to shrinking, intertwined tendrils. Finally, with an explosive snap, they separated.
Zanrith and Phoenix both woke up, their now normal-colored eyes snapping open. They sat there, gasping and sweating, for a few minutes, until Phoenix finally spoke up. “Alright, that was entirely freaking incredible, but what the hell just happened? Why did the bond break?”
Zanrith thought for a moment. “I don’t know, but I think I know who might.” He walked over to the trapdoor and dropped down it, with Phoenix close behind. Zanrith walked over to one of the guards Zanix had knocked out with his body. He gave him a little energy, enough to wake him up. When he focused his eyes, Zanrith demanded, “Who is casting the spell on the floor above?” The guard blinked, then began to chuckle.
“You think your little stunt went unanticipated? There’s a team of spellcasters on the floor above, and they’re casting a spell that keeps everyone’s auras within their respective bodies.” He continued his laugh, which degraded into a hacking, bloody cough. “What’s more,” he grunted, “Grisaille Tower is 2/3 underground., and your cell was on the bottom floor.”
Phoenix’s mouth went dry. Grisaille Tower was known to have 100 aboveground floors “You mean to say, we have to go through 199 floors like these?”
“Yes.” The guard laughed one last time before shuddering back into unconsciousness.
Dropping him, Zanrith stalked around the room, and punched the wooden door in rage. “Damn it!” he yelled.
Phoenix sunk to the floor. “How the hell are we supposed to get through 199 floors of this? Even as Zanix, we’ll probably get exhausted. And it seems like we need to get through the next floor without him.” He racked his brain, but could find no solution. “I guess there’s nothing else to it but to do it. We’d better get a move on before their reinforcements come barring down on us.” He stood, and got in position to give Zanrith a boost. After another moment or two of sulking, Zanrith obliged, and jumped through the trapdoor. He kneeled at its edge, catching Phoenix’s hand as he leapt. Together, they crossed the room.
Zanrith motioned to Phoenix, and then set the plan in motion. With Phoenix a few feet behind him, Zanrith charged at the door, and broke it down. He rolled into the room, coming out onto his knees. Phoenix ran over him, using his back a springboard to launch over the guards. When he landed, he made a dash at the spellcasters. Zanrith engaged the seven guards. Without the reflexes of Zanix, all he could do was play defense and keep their attention on him. Meanwhile, Phoenix tackled one spellcaster, disrupting the spell. The sudden shock knocked out the other three, and Phoenix’s fist secured the first. Then, he ran at the guards. As he neared the rear guard, he spun, using all the momentum in his body, to grab the back of the man’s shirt and slam him into another. That got their attention.
Their confusion giving him an opening, Zanrith slid forward on his back, slipping through the guards to stand next o Phoenix. They stood, back to back, as the guards attacked. As the first threw a punch at Zanrith, he ducked, while Phoenix spun around, catching and twisting the man’s arm, breaking his wrist. As Phoenix turned back around, he had to jump over a sweeping kick by the second guard. Zanrith took the opportunity to stomp on the guard’s leg, fracturing it. Together, they each grabbed one of the man’s legs and threw the man into the remaining three guards. They then charged at them, knocking them out and possibly breaking a few ribs.
They stood, panting. “We’d be better off if we siphon a little energy from them.” Phoenix said. “To keep them knocked out.”
“Agreed,” Zanrith said. “Lets start with the spellcasters.” They began to focus their minds, pulling energy from the magicians to induce a coma, and bolster their own strength. Once done, they moved on to the guards. Finished, Zanrith stood tall. “Ah,” he said. “Now that’s better.” He could feel the energy coursing through his body. It was a paltry fraction of his normal prowess, but was formidable nonetheless. Phoenix, too, was feeling much better.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s re-, um, what do we call this?” he asked.
Zanrith thought for a moment. “Mind-Melding?” he proposed.
“Works for me.” Phoenix shrugged. “Let’s re-Meld, and get a move on.”
For hours, they fought their way up the tower, floor by floor. After each fight, they drained the energies of the guards. By the time the reached their 40th floor, they had gained considerable power. Their meld had been interrupted five times so far, and it was stronger every time it reformed. They had just been split apart again as they reached for the door. This time, they managed to stay on their feet.
“Not again!” Phoenix complained. “This is getting seriously old!”
“Yes, very, but we have to press on.” Zanrith told him, getting into position. The one good thing about this spell was that it left their enemies as blind as it did them. This allowed them to use the same tactic over and over again.
Once they cleared the room, Phoenix felt a peculiar sensation that he couldn’t quite place. Ignoring it, he re-Melded with Zanrith. Zanix charged into the next floor with both of his bodies, sure that he was prepared for anything. Then he saw what was waiting. Over 70 guards were standing, waiting for him. He skidded both bodies to a halt. For a brief instant, everyone just stood there, Zanix watching the guards, the guards watching Zanix. Oh, shi- Then the guards attacked. Zanix had to use all his formidable concentration on his two bodies to keep them alive. He sent them spinning, flipping, and sliding amongst the guards, dodging seven blows for every one they landed. Zanix was forced to have Phoenix stop the arm of a guard whose sword was about to cleave through an occupied Zanrith. He then had Phoenix flip the guard into the path of another guard’s blade, and then spun him around the guard to knock out the second with his fist.
Then more guards attacked, and Zanix resumed his elaborate dance through the mass of guards. He managed to kick one guard in the head with Zanrith as he spun him over the heads of the guards, and break the legs of another when he had Phoenix dodged and accidentally stomped on it. It took what he believed to be three hours to finish off all the guards. By the end, Zanix felt spent. Even with his vast stores of energy, he was about to drop. The intense mental strain of fighting with both his bodies at their max was like trying to outrun a sunbeam. And now that their adrenaline supplies had run out, both bodies were dangerously close to passing out. He could feel his grip on them slipping. It was a curious sensation, but he didn’t have time to reflect upon it now. He forced his mind to focus, sensing all the energy in the room. Trying to drain energy while maintaining control over his bodies was like trying to walk a tightrope with a mountain in each hand. He could feel the elaborate fabric of his joined identity auras tearing, unraveling.
With all his remaining mental strength, he focused on the body of one guard, and drained his energy. He repeated this on every guard in the room. This should have been enough energy to level a mountain. Instead, it upgraded his bodies’ condition to sweaty, exhausted, smelly men. He couldn’t hold them together any longer, and his aura slowly slipped back into two.
Phoenix slumped on the ground, barely able to hold his head up. He looked over at Zanrith, and saw that he was in just about the same shape. With an enormous effort, he rose to his feet, and stumbled over to him. “You okay?” he asked. Zanrith just glared at him. He was too tired to even roll his eyes. “You know what I mean.” he snapped.
“Yeah,” Zanrith groaned, “as much as can be expected, I guess.” He pulled himself into a sitting position, panting. “This isn’t gonna work like this. Not anymore. We’re too spent. I doubt we’ll have much time to sit here and recover. So, got any other bright ideas?” he asked.
Phoenix tried to think, but he felt like there was a monkey banging cymbals together in his head. “Well, as far as I can tell, Melding does two things: increase our fighting capabilities, and share/boost our senses. The fighting thing really stems from our increased senses, which gives us much better reflexes. Then, since we’re one mind, we’re able to boost these things again by processing the information incredibly fast.” he said.
Zanrith waited for a moment. “Well? Is that it?” he demanded.
Phoenix thought for a few seconds. “I think...maybe we don’t need to Mind–Meld to boost our abilities.” he said cryptically.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Perhaps,” Phoenix said, “we can do a different type of meld...one with just our senses and reflexes...I guess it would be more of just a-a Battle–Meld.” He looked at Zanrith. “The thing is, I’m not sure how to do that.”
Zanrith considered the idea. “You’ve got a point there. To isolate those auras...could take days, even at our full strength, let alone in this condition.” He groaned, and got his feet under him. He remained squatting there for a moment. “However, there’s really no other option.” He staggered to his feet. “Let’s give it a shot.”
Phoenix nodded, closed his eyes, and began to concentrate. His eyes snapped open. “Zanrith,” he said, “Let’s do it in this order: sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste.” Zanrith nodded. Phoenix resumed his focus.

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Wallace’s eyes flew open as he sat bolt upright. Panting, he looked around, and saw that he was in the village’s medical house...or in other words, Yusei’s house. Sighing, he threw himself back onto the bed...and was instantly punished by a massive headache. Groaning, he sat back up with his head in his hands. “Welcome back,” a voice said. It sounded familiar. Wallace tried opening his eyes, but the light seemed blinding. “Easy does it,” the voice said. “Here, take this.” Wallace felt a small cup being placed in his hands. He drank from it, and after a few moments, the headache subsided. He opened his eyes, and saw Yusei sitting there, with Spark next to him. After a minute, he remembered what had happened.
“You moron,” he yelled at Spark. “You could have killed me!”
“Easy,” Yusei repeated. “Come on; let me help you out of bed.” He held onto Wallace’s arm as he staggered out of bed. Yusei helped him over to the sink so he could wash his face. When he finished, he stood there, hunched over the basin, as water dripped down his face.
“Well,” said Spark. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the head-bashing thing.” Wallace glared at him. Spark swallowed hard. “But,” he began, “I know a way I can make it up to you.”
Wallace shot him a skeptical look. “And how’s that, exactly?”
Spark gave him his signature devilish grin. Yusei’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wallace,” he warned, “Whatever it is, say no. You remember the last time he gave us that look?” For a moment, they all thought about a broken cart, a bowl of hot sauce, and one very angry flock of chickens.
“Relax, Yusei.” Spark said. “Wallace, you remember that deer you were hunting?” Wallace nodded. “I followed it, and lo behold, there’s a water hole that its herd frequents. I’m guessing you could get two or three before they run, and with us there, we’ll probably get seven or eight!”
Wallace considered it. Seemed safe enough. “Alright, I’m in. But half of your deer go to me, Spark.”
“Fair enough.” Spark said.
“This might actually be a good idea,” Yusei chuckled, “And coming from Spark, that’s a miracle.”
They headed off, slightly delayed by Yusei’s father, who demanded to check Wallace head. “Hmph!” he said, “As usual, you healed pretty quickly, but I’d try to avoid taking any more hits to the head. One of these days, it’s just going to fall right off!” They left the village and headed east into the woods, with Spark leading. They sprinted about a quarter-mile, and then stopped for a rest.
“Spark, how much further is it?” Wallace asked.
Spark looked back toward the village, gauging the distance. “I’d say we’re about three-quarters to it, but I think I’ve been head just a tad too north. We’re probably only ten feet off course.” Wallace and Yusei exchanged a worried look. “Don’t worry, this isn’t like last time,” Spark assured them. “If you’re that freaked out about it, then we can go ten feet south. I’ve got a tree that I marked, so we’ll just look for that.” In the end, they decided to trust Spark. Spark looked over at the sun, trying to figure out how much time they had.

* * *

Doom looked out at the sun, wondering how they got loose. He had personally checked that the cell was escape-proof. Yet, without him knowing, they managed to plan and achieve a rudimentary Mind-Meld. Now they were taking out every guard he threw at them, and he had just gotten word that they had defeated 72 guards on the 160th sub-floor. He allowed them to keep doing this only because he knew that Lithium would be waiting for them when they reached the surface. Turning to him now, Doom asked him, “Has the messenger returned from the Samurai yet?”
“Not quite, but I believe he should be nearly back by now.”
“And what of the black dragon our outer scouts reported?”
“We have identified him as Red-Eyes Wyvern, with his rider, Lordrag. Rowwdy has already dispatched two of his finest dragon hunters.” Lithium informed him.Good, Doom thought. There was a triple knock on the door. “Enter, Lucas.”
The guard came into the room and announced that the messenger had returned, let him in, and returned to his post. The messenger looked over at Arkain, who was now in his apprentice’s robes. The messenger returned his gaze to Doom. “Milord, the Samurai send their utmost respect to you, and have decided that they shall indeed join in an alliance with you under the terms laid out. They are now securing their border villages, as advised, and are destroying the nearby ninja villages to the south.” the young boy reported. Lithium breathed a huge sigh of relief. At a nod from Doom, the boy quietly handed a written report to Lithium, and left them.
“Thank god they agreed.” Doom said. “We didn’t have the time to get trapped in negotiations with them for days.”
Studying the report, Lithium read aloud, “Though we acknowledge the wisdom of your advice, Lord Doom, after a careful strategic analysis, we believe it will be for the best if we begin our assault on the Ninja province of Hanzo immediately. By cutting off trade lines...buffer your city from Sasuke...clear front line...” he looked up. “They may be right on that, and at the very least, it does nothing harmful to the overall strategy.”
Doom considered any consequences this plan might have. He nodded. “Very well. Send a small contingent of Healers and...Fire Mages to assist them, no more than twelve.” Lithium nodded, and passed the message on to Lucas, who would get a runner to dispatch the spellcasters. “And a Teleportation specialist!” Doom called out. Finished, Lithium returned to the room. Doom thought about what he needed to do now. “Time to go give Zanrith and Phoenix a welcome, don’t you think?” he asked Lithium. He was answered by a small smile. As Lithium left, a thought occurred to him. “And take Arkain with you.” Lithium paused, then nodded and beckoned to Arkain.

* * *

Wallace hurried to keep up with Spark and Yusei. Spark had been right about the herd of deer, and they had managed to hunt down seven of them. Unfortunately, Yusei had held them up by trying to chase down an eighth. Now they were struggling to get home before sunset. Ignoring the slight cramp in his left leg, and the stitch in his side, Wallace pushed on, straining to keep pace. He was carrying three deer, unlike Spark and Yusei, who were each carrying two. “Come on, guys, we’re almost there!” Spark called out. “We gotta hurry if we want this to be on tonight’s menu!” Wallace’s father owned one of the best restaurants within Hanzo. Many of the town’s visitors were there to sample his food. His deer stake was one of his most popular dishes, and he would greatly profit from this expedition.
As they neared the village, he smelled something in the air. He sniffed, trying to place the smell. He yelled in alarm, “FIRE!” and redoubled his pace. Spark and Yusei huffed to keep up. They ran out of the woods and down the road, dropping the dead weight. They ran to the village, through the now charred, burning towers...and into an enormous disaster zone of charred rubble. Wallace couldn’t even comprehend what he was looking at. The area looked like it had been hit by a fiery hurricane. His heart dropped into his stomach, and he ran towards where his house was supposed to be. He spotted only one thing: a long, black object, glinting in the sunset. He felt like he had just been slammed in the chest. He stumbled over to the object, and fell to his knees, sobbing in pain and rage.
Images of his mother, father, and sister flashed by in his mind. Each of their last words to him. His to them. Through his clouded mind, he heard a cold, chilling laugh. Looking up, he saw almost 50 men, most on horseback, lined up near the edge of what used to be his village. He could see from the armor that the man laughing was the general. The man called out, “That’s it, boys, let it sink in.” He chuckled. “But don’t worry to much, you’ll be with them soon enough!” He motioned with his hand, and two men on horseback charged at Wallace, Spark, and Yusei. 500 feet
With a cold detachment, Wallace rose to his knees, then his feet, picking up the sheathed blade.400 feet
With determination, he looped the strap around his waist.300 feet
With purpose, he tied the knot.200 feet
He stood, relaxed, as the men closed in.100 feet
Spark and Yusei moved off to either side of Wallace.50 feet...10 feet
With a fierce yell, Wallace drew the sword, swinging it in an enormous circle as he spun around. Standing between the horses, he decapitated the first on the downstroke, and the other on the upstroke. Still screaming, he charged toward the line of men. Spark and Yusei followed on either side. The general barked an order, and another two cavalrymen thundered toward them, single file. As the first bored down on him, Wallace jumped onto the horse’s head, cleaved the rider’s head off, and flipped forward into the air, landing in front of the second horse. Sidestepping, he turned to the right and held out his sword. The horse ran into it, slicing itself in half, lengthwise. Wallace finally understood why the sword’s name meant, ‘Eversharp.’
Spinning around, he continued his charge. The general shouted, “FIRE,” and all of his archers fired at once. At a gesture from Wallace, Yusei and Spark fell back. Wallace avoided the arrows he could, and cut down those he couldn’t, then kept on charging, rejoined by Spark and Yusei. At a yell from the general, his men dismounted and rushed to greet them. Wallace met them head-on, twirling the blade in his brother’s signature style. His blade went right through them. Armor, flesh, bone, steel, none of them mattered to him. His sword could cut through them all.
Finishing off the last man, Wallace ran for the general, while Yusei and Spark attacked the archers. He screamed as he slashed his blade at his foe. The general put his sword up to block. In Wallace’s mind, he could already see how he would die. Wallace’s blade would slice through the general’s, and continue to cut him open from right shoulder to left hip. Instead, the blades caught. Surprised, Wallace stepped back, spinning his sword slowly as he circled the other man. The general chuckled. Wallace studied the man’s sword. It was a rather oddly shaped katana. It resembled a crescent moon, and appeared to be made of some silvery stone or gem. Pearl, maybe? He figured the fighting style would consist of mostly big, sweeping slashes.
“You should know my name,” he said, “considering you’ll be dying by my hand.”
The general chuckled again. “I already know your name, Wallace.”
Wallace nearly dropped his sword in surprise. “How do you know me?”
The general gave him a tiger’s smile. “Your brother talked about you a lot.” he paused. “Right up until I carried out his execution.”
The words rang in Wallace’s ears. The ringing grew louder, turning into a torrent of rage. Screaming, he struck out at the general with his sword. Between blows, the general said, “You should know my name, as your brother, mother, father, and sister have fallen by my hand, as will you.” he disengaged himself from their flurry. “I am Moonsabre, third general of the Samurai Army Corps.”
Wallace panted, his temper boiling over. Twirling the sword, he built up its momentum, just as Sarge had taught him. Seething in rage, he felt as though the sword’s furious force mirror his own anger. He unleashed them both upon Moonsabre in a blindly fast flurry of blows. The exchange ended, and Moonsabre called out, “You’re far stronger than you parents. Your father blindly bounded out of your house, directly onto my blade.” Wallace interrupted his jeers with another round of blows. Flipping backwards, Moonsabre continued, “An much better than your mother. She tried to kill me by throwing kitchen knifes!” He threw his head back and laughed. In a red-hot fury, Wallace sliced and slashed at Moonsabre, giving him zero breathing room. Moonsabre grunted through his teeth, “And your pretty little sister? She saw all of it. She begged me for death.”
Wallace was now so enraged that he literally could not hear anything more. As he slashed towards Moonsabre’s right shoulder, his foot slipped on a stone, and his blade went way out to the left. Grinning, Moonsabre swept low with his crescent katana, intending to cleave off Wallace’s legs. Instead, Wallace jumped, trapping the unusually wide blade beneath his feet. Kicking high, he slammed his right heel into Moonsabre’s jaw, stunning him. He then hooked his leg around the back of the general’s neck, and flipped him over. As the man fell back first, Wallace held out his blade, and, just as he had done with the horse, let the general get cut in half.
He walked over to Moonsabre’s head, and used a kick to flip over his upper half. He crouched down, and whispered into the man’s ear, “I have only ever killed three men, before you and your men. All of them had the same guilt: they threatened my family.” He motioned to Spark, who brought over one of the remaining horses. Wallace went to work, tying knots and extending the horse’s saddle harness. “You have killed them,” Wallace continued. “Therefore, I need a better punishment for you. Something more severe than just death.” He held out his hand, and Yusei placed an emergency wound salve of his father’s into it. Wallace applied it to the whole of Moonsabre’s gored intestines. “This should keep you alive just long enough to get back to your superiors and report what occurred here. Then you will die, in shame.” He tied each rope of the harness to one of the general’s arms, pointed the horse in right direction, and slapped its rump, sending it barreling off to the Samurai base. The stallion’s cargo moaned in pain as he was dragged away.
“Wallace,” Spark began hoarsely, “I need to get to my father’s village. If they attacked here, then they must’ve–”
“I understand, Spark,” Wallace said. He looked over to the general’s remaining horses. “So let’s mount up and ride out.”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Lordrag felt the air currents swirling around him and Black Wyvern. He had sensed something a while back, and he’d been uneasy ever since. This wasn’t his first covert mission into Spellcaster territory, but it was the first one with a different objective than just reconnaissance. He had to break out two probably high-profile prisoners from the most secure prison in the world. That’s why the pay me the big bucks, he thought. His job was to do the jobs he couldn’t do, then make them look easy. He was the Wyv-Lerl Phazar-Lerl, literally “The Elite Rider of the Elite Family of the Elite Clan’s most Elite Family.” His job was to be the best, period. When all else failed, he didn’t. Blah, blah, blah. In reality, the only reason the Phazar-Lerls were special was because the family head, Lordrag, was the brother of the clan leader. Then again, so were all the other family heads. What made Lordrag special within the clan was Black Wyvern. Black Wyvern was the brother of Red-Eyes. Very few dragons had ever had siblings, because of their reproductive patterns.
When a dragon is hatched, it holds within it every aura it will ever have, including one unique to dragons: a reproductive aura. Upon hatching, a dragon’s reproductive aura will leave its body, and shoot around the planet. As it flew around, it would interact with other energies. The aura would absorb minute portions of these energies and, after 500 years, would fall to earth from the spiritual weight of all those energies. Upon impact, the pure form of the reproductive aura would rise to the top of the ball of spiritual energy, and solidify to create a protective shell.
This shell would grow inward for 25 years, compressing the other energies until they were smaller than the point of a needle. Then, the reproductive aura would, for lack of a better word, die, and be reborn into an aura of identity for the new dragon. Identity auras contain within them the information for all other auras. Because of this, the aura is able to take the other energies and sift through them, using them as fuel to create the new auras for the dragon, which takes 75 years. Together, these auras eat away at the shell’s interior, reducing its thickness by roughly half over the course of 50 years. The last aura to be created is the corporeal aura: the flesh. This takes 100 years to finish. Once it does, the auras of the dragon begin to strengthen, and eat away at the rest of the shell for an additional 250 years, until, finally, the shell breaks, and the dragon awakens, a day 1,000 years in the making.
For a dragon to have a sibling, the reproductive aura must split while absorbing energies. The later the split, the more similar the siblings. Top Dragonists had theorized that Red-Eyes and Black Wyvern’s aura split just before coming into an enormous source of energy, making Red-Eyes an Eyes dragon, and Wyvern a regular dragon. Lordrag wasn’t positive of that. He believed that Red-Eyes got the power and strength, but Wyvern got far more speed, endurance, and, of course, stealth.Are you just going to sit there and ponder my existence, or are you going to focus on the task at hand? Wyvern demanded.
Lordrag felt himself go a little red. He had forgotten to shield his thoughts from Wyvern. Wyvern was, as usual, correct. He had no time to let his mind wander.Alright, he said to Wyvern mentally, Let’s go over the plan, then. Speaking to your dragon with just your mind was not something most riders could do. However, after nearly 150,000 years, he had trained his mind to focus enough.
Their plan was straightforward, not because of the task’s ease or simplicity, but because of a general lack of good intel. Using one of the sacred talismans they had found within Mount Sygrelm, they would fly up incredibly high, higher than were they would normally be able to breathe, and then they would dive-bomb into the city, using the darkness of night as cover against the spellcasters, would have to fire their spells straight up. Wyvern would keep them distracted while Lordrag dropped in, using his armor to fly down safely and stealthily. On the ground, he would go into the tower, get Zanrith and Phoenix, and get out. He would fly back up to Wyvern and then they would be in for the flight of their lives trying to escape. The scouts that were already ahead of him would provide them with cover.
Lordrag knew in his gut that none of that would happen.Oh, shut up and be optimistic.
* * *

Phoenix opened his eyes, wheezing. Zanrith stumbled over to the wall and collapsed halfway down. They had so far managed to, by some miracle, locate their sight and smell auras, and merge them. “Now for hearing,” Phoenix said. Once again, they resumed their postures, meditating on what stood out along that sense. Phoenix focused on the slight creaking of the door. Zanrith focused on the minute trickle of blood from one of the guard’s bodies. As each one focused, they retreated within themselves, allowing only two things to exist: their identity, and their chosen sound. After a few minutes, they each began to feel their awareness pulsing. Then, all at once, their sound became clearer, shaper, louder. Then, they took the idea of that sound, the concept, and flung it out to the other’s mind. The sounds latched onto their new minds, and retained the same enhanced quality.
Knowing they had succeeded, they returned to the real world, gasping and retching. It took several moments to regain their composure. When they did, they looked at each other and nodded. Closing his eyes, Phoenix extended his awareness, reaching out with his newly mastered auras, just as he had when he melded with Zanrith last time. One by one, each of their auras knit themselves together, joining with one another to increase their power tenfold. Opening his eyes, Phoenix realized that he could tell every dip, bump, and groove in the stone of the walls. He could individually smell each and every person’s blood on his tunic. He could hear the snoring of one of the spellcasters six floors below. Most amazing of all, he could not only take all this in, but he could interpret it all.
“Let’s do this.” Zanrith said. Together, they walked through the door, up the stairwell behind it, and into a new room, one with maybe 20 guards packed in. They didn’t stand a chance. An unexpected benefit of this battle-meld seemed to be that they could absorb other people’s energy while fighting. Their blows were even faster than they had been as Zanix. They dispatched the squadron in less than a minute. When the battle was over, Zanrith realized that he didn’t notice even the slightest dip in his energy since it had begun. However, when he tried to raise his energy, he found that he had reached a definitive ceiling. Phoenix confirmed this when he asked.
“I can’t get any stronger than this,” Phoenix said. “But I can’t seem to weaken, either. Perhaps if we were to do this at full power, we would maintain that with this seeming permanence.” Zanrith nodded. As Phoenix climbed the ladder on the far side of the room, the rung beneath his foot gave way. Fortunately, he found another foothold. Unfortunately, it was Zanrith’s face. Apologizing, he clambered up the rest of the ladder. Upon reaching the next floor, they felt a slight tugging on their bond, but it did not break. Puzzled, they realized that they must have passed into a no-melding area. “I guess it doesn’t work on Battle-Melds.” Phoenix said. Zanrith shrugged, then sidestepped and gestured grandly to the door.
“All yours.”
“With pleasure.” Phoenix charged at the door, kicking it open as he strode brazenly into the chamber. The stupefied guards watched for a moment as he summoned a slight whirlwind around his feet for effect. They were on the brink of recovering from their shock when Zanrith burst in behind Phoenix, smashing their heads together like eggshells. Phoenix winced at the gore, though he knew there was no choice. He felt the life ebb from each one as he absorbed their energies. Twenty-seven, he counted. Together, they turned to the magicians, eight this time. They flew at them, mirroring each other. They both clotheslined their first two with their outer arms, then swept out with their legs to bring low the thirds, then spun out of it to break the jaw of the fourths. At the same time, they turned to one another and said, “Nice form.” Then they laughed as they drained the mages’ energies.
* * *

Lordrag examined the city from afar. Wyvern was holding them in a wide arc; just beyond what Lordrag was hoping would be the range of the Spellcaster’s scouts. He immediately spotted their two targets: Hemlorent and Grisailles towers. Alright, he told Wyvern, streak towards Hemlorent, but make sure to pass Grisaille so I can drop off.He felt Wyvern tense as he strained to alter their course so sharply. In the blink of an eye, he felt a strange pulse of energy. “Wyvern, dive!” Lordrag yelled, both mentally and audibly. His heart rose to his stomach as Wyvern snapped into a sharp descent.
A huge blast of ruby-red energy flew past where Wyvern’s wing had been just a split second ago. The blast left spots dancing in his eyes and deafened his ears. His own senses useless, he closed his eyes and melted his consciousness into Wyvern’s. With Wyvern’s eyes, he saw his fears confirmed: a squadron of Spellcasters were levitating directly below them. Wyvern roared as he streaked towards the group. Lordrag studied them as they arranged into a starburst, with one man at the center. Too late, he realized that the Spellcaster’s staffs were glowing brighter. Wyvern threw them into a barrel roll at the last second, narrowly evading the enormous blast. He lost control pulling out of it, sending them into a teetering, tumbling dive. It also altered their course enough so that they zipped past the floating squad, who immediately took advantage of having the high...air?...to slam Wyvern with dozens of those blasts. The shots that missed generated constant buffets prevented them from regaining control, and the ones that hit tore at Wyvern’s tough outer skin, exposing the fleshy, sensitive inner skin.
Lordrag felt every once of the intense pain that stabbed at every corner of Wyvern’s body and mind as the wind ripped at his inner skin, splitting it like butter and exposing the dense muscle and nerve masses. He pulled himself out of his dragon’s mind, for fear of blacking out. As he returned to his own body, he realized that Wyvern was about to pass out. Knowing the consequences of that, he unclipped himself from his saddle. Donning his armor, he flew down to Wyvern’s head, struggling to keep pace with the plummeting dragon. He pulled a long, thin metal stick out of his pack. Prying open Wyvern’s jaws, he slid the pole down his throat. Wyvern’s eyelids fluttered, and the pain subsided. Roaring, he regained control of himself just in time to catch the bottom of the sky with his wings, slamming to a halt in a harsh landing.What did you do? Wyvern demanded.I used that iron stick we found in the Crying Mountains to turn off your body’s pain sensors. Lordrag informed him. But be wary, you will still get hurt, you just won’t feel it.Who are they?I think I know. Lordrag thought quietly. He looked up at the squad, watching as their staffs began glowing again. Dragon Hunters.
* * *

“Heeee-Aaarrgh!” Artorigus yelled as he charged. Holding Excaliburn over his head with both meaty fists, he swung down with all his force at his sparring partner. The much smaller man held his own blade over his head at a steep angle, causing Excaliburn to skid down its length in a glorious wave of sparks. To prevent the force of the blow from snapping his sword, the partner used and redirected it by sidestepping. Forced into stumbling off to his left, Artorigus spun around furiously, sweeping his blade towards the man’s torso. The man backflipped into a handspring, evading the blow. Capturing the momentum, Artorigus let his blade twirl as he dashed at his opponent. He unleashed a fury of slashes and swipes at the smaller man. All were dodged or deflected. Pressing in, Artorigus tried to gain leverage for another overhead cleave when the man suddenly spun around Artorigus, almost casually swept his left leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor.
Standing over the dazed Artorigus, the man lifted his blade, thrusting the point to Artorigus’ face. An inch from the skin, he stopped. “Dead.” he spat out. “Again.” He turned, walking away in disgust. Once he was three feet away, he heard a faint clink. Sighing, he thought, He’ll never learn, will he? He tilted his head to the left sharply, avoiding a thrust at his head by Artorigus. Without turning around, he slid his left foot back, angled his arm, and slammed his elbow into Artorigus’ wrist in a savage strike. Howling in pain, the king nearly dropped his sword and fell to one knee. Big baby. Another elbow to the gut, followed by an uppercut to the chin, robbed the big man of all his remaining focus, and sent him flying back.. Excaliburn flashed in a huge flare of red energy.
After the light faded, he saw the same thing as before: It’s special Chaos Crystal, fueled by the determination of its wielder, failed with Artorigus’ focus, causing the sword to revert back to its original form, Caliburn. Sighing again, he walked over to the king. “I still don’t see the point of this!” he snapped, “Caliburn is plenty powerful. Why torture myself like this?”
“You know why. You said yourself that you wanted to kill Doom yourself. Powerful Caliburn may be; the King of Mages won’t go down easily. The mere fact that this extra level, this Excaliburn exists, should be reason enough to try and master it. However, you will need it to defeat the Master of Mages.”
Artorigus growled, swinging the blade high over his head. When it reached its apex, he let out a fierce roar. Another flare emerged from his sword. This time, the opposite had caused it. Caliburn’s smooth, blue energy-lined surface had morphed, changing into a rougher blade, lined with blue energy on one side, and red on the other. “Excaliburn, I call upon thee!” he roared. The blade’s lines flared brightly. Once again, he charged towards his partner.
He slashed in a rhythm, getting into a pattern. Left, right, up, right, down, he hammered each blow with force and precision. The other man dodged them all, sword hanging limply by his side. Artorigus tried once more his overhead strike, only to have his partner dodge it, springing high into the air. The smaller man flipped back into the air, landing in a crouch not three feet away. As Artorigus charged again, he gripped his blade more tightly, angling it in anticipation. He knew what the king would do: throwing himself forward, the big man would most likely try feinting a stab, switching his blade into a curved sweep at the last second. He would let the king come, and jump onto his blade, kicking him in the face as he backflipped, dashing forward upon landing to take his legs out from under him.
And so it was that Artorigus was once again laying on the floor of his own sparring room, groaning in pain, Excaliburn lost once more. “We’re done here,” the partner said, “Tomorrow I should have a new regimen worked out. I’ll warn you, it’ll be a lot of basics, much like when you first got Caliburn.”
“And why’s that?” the king growled, rising to his feet.
“Because just like any other Noble Armament, maintaining Excaliburn’s power takes up the majority of your focus, leaving you seriously hindered in battle. It’s as if you had just gotten a Noble Armament. If you want to keep training today, my advice would be to practice simply holding Excaliburn for as long as you can while you go through some basic moves.”
The king nodded. “Thank you, Quagsire.”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Spark felt his dread growing with each clip-clop of the horses’ rapid footfalls. Mom...Dad...Ricky...pleas be okay. You need to be okay. If his father died now, with their last words being what they had been...no. He wouldn’t allow that. “Hee-yah!” he cried, spurring his horse on to even greater speeds. Got to hand to those samurai bastards...they know how to train a horse.
“Stay sharp!” Wallace barked. “I smell smoke!”
Swallowing hard, Spark tried not to let his mind worry about what that might mean. Instead, he focused on making sure his weapons were properly positioned for instant use. He glanced over at Wallace’s–no, Sarge’s sword. Damn, he thought, should’ve grabbed one of the Samurai’s swords back there. Could come in really handy. Looking forward, he sniffed the air and realized Wallace was right; there was smoke in the air, and heavily, too. Once more, he found a new gear of speed on his horse. Wallace and Yusei struggled to keep up.
As they rounded the bend in the path, they finally came to the thirty-feet tall iron gates of Spark’s city, Yamadron. Behind it, they could see flames rising, flaring in a pattern. “No,” Spark whispered. Wallace looked at him. The flames were reflecting in his eyes. “NO!” Spark screamed. He dismounted, grabbed Sarge’s sword off Wallace’s back, and ran for the tower. He scaled the bricks, practically running up the wall. When he got to the top, he searched desperately for the master chain. There! He slashed the blade at the enormous chain. It snapped like a twig. Back outside, Yusei and Wallace had to throw themselves backwards to avoid getting flattened as the two-ton gate came crashing down. The horses were not so lucky.
Spark threw a rope over the edge of the tower window, slid halfway down; and then kicked off the wall, swinging in a huge arc, screaming at the top of his lungs. As he flew by, he threw Sarge’s sword into the ground at Wallace’s feet. Extending both his legs, Spark swung into the city in a double-kick, slamming into a Samurai soldier. Flipping off the rope, he landed on the roof of a house between two more soldiers. He swept out his left leg, then snapped his body to deliver a savage uppercut to the now airborne man’s rib cage. Yusei watched in disbelief as the man landed thirty feet away, right at his boots. The man’s chest was caved in were Spark had struck him. “Holy shi*,” he muttered.
Turning to the other guard, Spark blocked the man’s sword arm with his own right, then delivered an uppercut to the man’s chin with his left, an elbow to the ribs with his right, and finally, spun low, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him. A flash out the corner of his eye told him an arrow was coming. Reaching into a pouch in his shirt, he pulled out his custom-made sling, designed for just such an occasion. He whipped it into the arrow, catching the metal tip in the rubber strip as he flipped the whole contraption, causing the arrow to flip over and whiz back to its owner. Glimpsing another coming from his left, he leaned back and caught it with his left hand. Leaping from the roof, he landed on the porch below. He cried out as the fire-weakened wood gave way beneath him, threatening to throw him into the spiked trap pit below. Quick as lightning, Yusei was there, grabbing his arm to stop his fall, while Wallace deflected arrows with his brother’s sword, and cut down two Samurai who approached.
Grunting with effort, Yusei pulled Spark out from the pit. “The whole city is swarming with these creeps!” he yelled, “We need a plan of attack!”
Glaring towards the south, Spark replied, “I have a plan: attack.” He dashed off, leaving his bewildered friends behind. He danced through the city, slipping down alleys, over houses, and through shops. Everything, everywhere, was on fire. He took his two short blades, and cut down any soldiers who got in his path. Finally, he spotted who he had been looking for. “Father!” he called out, “On your seven!” His father turned and stabbed a Samurai who had been about to cut him down from behind.
“Spark! Good to see you, m’boy! Have you seen your mother?” he demanded, blocking two sword strikes from an enemy, returning them with one, lethal stab to the man’s eye.
“No sir!” Spark answered, taking up a position back-to-back with his father. He effortlessly disarmed an enemy, and then slashed his chest clean open. “We’re not the only ones under attack, father!”
Spark’s father caught an arrow and used it to stab the soldier about to cleave him in two. “What do you mean?” he shouted.
“Well,” Spark replied as he stole a Samurai’s sword and used it to decapitate him, “I just came from Ansatsu, Yusei and Wallace’s village! They murdered the town and razed it! We had to fight our way out.”
Grunting from the effort of blocking a fierce strike, Spark’s father asked, “Are they here now, Wallace and Yusei?”
“Yes.”
“Good. How did you escape?” he asked.
Fending off a rather furious attacker, Spark grunted out, “Well, Wallace sort of...killed the army.” They were both silent for a few moments, aside from grunts as they fought.
Spark’s father finally spoke, “Well damn.”
Spark chuckled. “Eloquent as ever, sir.” He twisted an enemy’s blade with his own, disarming the man and cutting his hand off at the wrist. He cut the man’s head off as he screamed in pain. “Though Yusei and I did help. We killed all the archers.”
“Good job.” his father told him. “Still,” he continued, “they’ve been pouring into the city for over an hour from the north gate. Your grandfather held them off long enough to scramble the troops, about twenty minutes. That’s why all the...” another would-be assailant tried to stab him under his guard. He stopped the man by stabbing him in the forearm. As he tried to pull it out, the handle snapped off. “Damn! That was my last dart!”
They looked as a man on horseback came clattering down the street. The man threw a weapons vest at Spark’s father, who caught it and donned it, pulling out two fresh blades. “Look alive, Hinotama!”
Spark’s father looked up and grinned at the man. “Perfect timing, father!”
Spark smiled at his grandfather. “So father told me you held off the entire Samurai forces for twenty minutes.” He jumped up and flipped over his father, landed on his grandfather’s horse, and cut down a flying arrow. “Why such a poor performance?” he jested.
His grandfather replied by flipping over him to stop a Samurai Spark hadn’t noticed. He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted it into the air until the shoulder snapped, and then crushed the man’s larynx with a savage high-kick. “What was that?” he asked, “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of that butt-whooping.” Spark just laughed.
“Alright, enough games.” Hinotama said. “We need to push them back.” He turned to Spark. “Son, go get your friends. You said you beat an army once; let’s hope you can do it again. Push towards the north gate from the east; see if you can stem the flow. Father, rally the troops; do the same from the west. As for me, I’ll gather what’s left of the high guard; we’ll form a line and hold it in the Trader’ District. Move out!”
Spark ran off to find Wallace and Yusei. He ran to a ladder, climbed it, and continued his run on the rooftops, trying to find them. He had last seen them in the Market District, which looked to be ablaze from his perspective. He jumped from the roof, landing on another house across the street. He continued this for another three blocks, until he finally spotted them. A veritable horde of Samurai surrounded them. Sarge’s sword flashed in Wallace’s hands. He cut through all that dared attack him, which was quite a few. From his vantage point, Spark could see Yusei in the bell tower above Wallace, shooting at any who escaped his notice, which wasn’t many. He considered waiting a few minutes, but realized that it would take too long.
With a fierce yell, he leaped down into the fray, furiously stabbing, slashing, and throwing his darts and knives. Together, they quickly eliminated the force. Wallace stood, panting, and said to Spark, “You’d better have one helluvan explanation for running off on us like that.” Spark filled them in. “Well,” Wallace said, “That’ll do it.” They took off, running for the gate. A handful of Yamadron’s defenders joined them, though most were cut down by archers, until only four remained. “Brace yourselves!” Wallace barked, “We’re about to come up on the bulk of their forces in this area!” They leaped off the roofs, pouring down into the pavilion like birds of prey. They cleaved through the enemy forces, causing even more confusion. The squad commander tried to reclaim their obedience, right up until Yusei shot him in the throat, which effectively shut him up. The remaining Samurai tried to flee, but were cut down by Spark. They got back on the roofs, and resumed their run. In all, the skirmish had taken less than thirty seconds.
Another four such fights happened until they reached the gate. At a signal from Spark, they all climbed up a tall church tower, hiding among the bells. One of the soldiers asked what they were waiting for. “My gra-General Ookazi is rallying some troops to attack from the west. If we attack them now, they’ll cut us down.”
“But won’t they just keep getting in?” the young man pressed.
“My fa-Commander Hinotama is forming a line to hold them here in the Trader’s District.” He glanced at a squad pulling off, heading in the direction they had just come from. He let loose a small string of curses. “On second thought, you four go stop any squads that try to keep pouring in.”
The soldier nodded, then turned back to him. “But then how will you conduct the eastern assault?”
Spark grinned. “Under the leadership of Colonel Spark Forgame.” The soldier’s eyes widened. “Now move out! That’s an order.” The men nodded and went to pursue the squad they had seen.
Yusei moved over to Spark, taking care not to be seen by the soldiers in the square below. “Colonel, eh?”
Spark smiled bitterly. “It’s why I left. I had just enlisted when I was given that huge promotion. I realized it was because I was a Forgame. I mean, sure, I’m a better fighter than most other Colonels, but still, I had kinda wanted to earn it myself. I had an argument with my father about it. It got pretty heated. He said that if I resigned, I’d be shaming the whole family.” He double-checked his weapons again. “Ah, Poop. I’m low on size six darts.” He only had three left. He usually kept sixteen with him at all times, since they were his best fit.
“Here, take mine,” Yusei said, handing them to him. “I won’t be needing them much. I’ve only got eight, but that should hold you over.”
“Thanks.” Spark said. He scanned the troops below. “See those seven men standing by the old pie shop?” Yusei nodded. “If you can get a flaming arrow to hit the horse next to them, or more specifically, the horse’s packs, you’ll set off a boom big enough to take out a quarter of that flank.” Yusei looked at him doubtfully. “It’s this new powder they’ve developed. It explodes when ignited.” Yusei grinned and nodded. Spark gestured for Wallace to come closer. “When the fighting starts,” he told him, “You’d be most useful on their rear flank. See what trouble you can cause, but don’t push too aggressively or they’ll panic and retreat. We need to close the gate on them, to trap them in here, in our territory, and cut off their reinforcements.”
“And how is that gonna happen?” Yusei asked.
Spark gave them his signature devilish grin. “That’s were I come in. But Wallace, I’ll need to borrow Sarge’s sword to cut the chains.” Wallace glared at him. “Yeah, about earlier,” Sparks said, “I didn’t know whether or not I had the time to wait and ask, so I didn’t.”
“Fair enough.” Wallace amended. “Sure, you can borrow it. I’m good enough with a regular sword. Careful, though. There’s a reason that its name means “Eversharp.” Spark nodded. Just then, they heard a lot of yelling as Ookazi and his troops attacked. “That’s our que!” Wallace said. Yusei was already taking his fiery shot. The horse, the men, the shop, and much, much more all went up in a glorious show of sparks and flames. Wallace and Spark slipped out the side and ran down the roof. When they were about to reach the edge of the gate, Wallace unstrapped the sword from his belt, and handed it to Spark, saying, “Use it well!” before jumping down to cause some mischief in the Samurai ranks.
Spark charged to the wall and engaged the secret ladder. Taking a deep breath, he practically ran up it, scaling the forty feet in less than fifteen seconds. Reaching the window, he pulled himself in. Running into the control room, he located the right chain and cut it. The three-ton panel of steel, iron, and oak began to rise rapidly. As it clicked along, he saw a faint, glowing red light behind another chain. Oh no, he thought, There must be a fire in the gear housing! The gears were made from metal, but the shafts were a special hickory. It was incredibly strong, but it was still wood, and thus very flammable. But how could he get to it? The chains were in his way; he could climb over them, but there was no telling how his weight could affect their delicate balance.
He set down Sarge’s sword and studied the chains. Concentrating, he tried to figure them out. He tugged slightly on one chain, and it did not move. He increased the weight, but still it did not move. Taking care, he climbed onto it, and tested another. To his relief, it also did nothing. Climbing on, he tried another. This time, it started moving when he pushed on it. Scared out of his mind, he snatched his hand back. He heard a faint ding, and saw the dumbwaiter rising into its slot on the far side of the room. He sighed in relief. After two more chains, he made it to the gear housing room. Opening the door, he crept onto the narrow access ledge. Looking around, he saw a small square in the wood. There was a small window in the square, out of which was pouring that red glow. He knew that the access ledge didn’t reach that side of the room, which left one option to get across: climbing across the moving gears and shafts. Taking a deep breath, he leapt onto the first gear. He rapidly danced through the room, crossing gears, climbing shafts, and jumping over gaps.
When he got to the other side, he realized that he was in serious trouble: this gear was about to flip, but there weren’t any gears close enough to reach the other wall, much less that square, and the gears behind him had moved too much for him to get back. Cursing under his breath, he saw his one and only chance. He had to get to that square, and hang on to the window. So he jumped. His left hand fit, while the other hung limp. He hear a slight clicking noise, when all of a sudden, the square swung open, revealing a small cubby. That would have been a fantastic discovery, if it hadn’t meant that, at the apex of its swing; the door broke off, threatening to send Spark plummeting over thirty feet into grinding gears and a big fire. At the last moment, he managed to grip the lip of the cubby and hang on. With the greatest effort he had ever put out, he pulled himself up enough to look into the cubby. “No way,” he whispered.
Then, with a terrified scream, he slipped of the ledge and fell.

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Draco cursed as his foot once again slipped into a damp puddle. He knew that it was trivial, but he just couldn’t stand the sensation anymore, so he channeled a little of his energy into his left leg, raising its temperature to make the water evaporate. That was more than a little petty, Blue-Eyes spoke in his mind, and you really should be conserving your energy for the task at hand.
Annoyed at being reprimanded, he replied, I am. The task at hand at that moment just happened to be drying my leg. Blue-Eyes retreated from his mind in annoyance, leaving Draco to focus on the real task at hand; reaching the deepest stretch of the vast catacombs, where the bones of his oldest and greatest ancestor rested: Heart Due-list, rider of the Legendary Dragon of White. Old White was the oldest and greatest ancestor of Blue-Eyes. Rare was it that both a rider and dragon would have descendants who bonded. This created a rather unique ability within Draco, one that had helped him become wise enough to rise to the position of King of Riders: He could speak, not to the spirits of riders, nor the spirits of dragons, but the bond of those dead. Any thoughts, memories, or experiences shared between the pair would manifest into a spirit to whom Draco would converse with.
There had only ever been five Bond-Speakers, as they were called, in the entire history of riders. No one quite knew how or why this ability worked or existed, but it definitely did. Now Draco was venturing into the deep catacombs, trying to find the tomb of his ancestor. The only problem was that this particular section had been subjected to an artificial earthquake several centuries ago in a Spellcaster attack. Then, a little over 200 years ago, it had flooded due to natural causes. Draco had already needed to use significant amounts of his power moving obstacles. He estimated that he had used roughly a quarter of his strength just getting here. From the map he had memorized before coming down, he figured that he should be right in front of the tomb.
Looking around, he saw nothing. So instead, he closed his eyes and focused. He extended his awareness, seeking out the spirit he had come for. Projecting his thoughts as he spoke, he called out, “Spirit of the bond between Heart Due-list and the Legendary Dragon of White! I have need of your wisdom. Dire times may be ahead, and an adversary greater than all humanity and dragons combined threatens to rise once more! Please, share your knowledge with me! Without your help, all could per-”Enough with the formalities, Draco. If you wanted to speak to me, all you had to do was ask.Odd, he thought. Most bond spirits referred to themselves as “us” or “we”. Frowning, Draco asked, “Who are you?”I guess I might be easier to recognize if I took form. Now Draco knew something was up. Never before had a spirit taken a form. He expected a dragon to appear. Instead, a man, clad in the ancient robes of the council lord, shimmered into a ghostly being before his eyes. The man opened his eyes, revealing them to be blank white. “Well? How about a hug for your ancestor?” the man joked.
From the folds of his robe, Draco drew a glowing green blade, specifically forged to protect a Bond-Speaker from spirits. “What trickery is this?” he demanded. “Who are you, really?”
A smile spread across the man’s face. “I am Heart Due-list, rider of White.” Draco nearly dropped the Soul Blade. “I’m sure you’re curious about how it is that I am able to speak to you directly.” Draco nodded. “Well, I’m not sure why myself, but I think it has something to do with me being the ancestor from whom your powers source themselves.” Heart walked over to an appropriately sized rock and sat down on it. “Perhaps, since I am not only the ancestor of you, but also of the bond between you and your dragon, we can speak as we do now. Speaking of now, I’m sure you have more pressing questions for me, do you not?”
Forcing himself out of his shock, Draco said, “Yes! I need your guidance on an issue that, well, threatens to kill everyone on the planet.”“Really?” Heart said. “That sounds like my kind of party, yes. What is it this time?” Struggling to find the words for it, Draco conveyed the situation by sharing the impressions that Blue-Eyes had received. Sighing, Heart hung his head. “We feared that this day would come one day. It seems that yours is that fateful generation that must carry this burden.” Draco felt his mind being searched, as Heart looked into it to see the world. When he had finished, Draco could sense that Heart had just felt true despair. “This–this is terrible. We only stopped it last time because we were united. With the alliances being what they are today...no. This cannot stand.”
Draco was hopelessly confused. “Sir, what do you mean? What is about to happen?”
Seeming to size him up, Heart looked him over, then square in the eye. “Take careful hold of your sanity, Draco Keroel. Few have survived this; I’m going to take you into my memories, so that you may know fully of the disaster that is about to befall your world.” Before nodding, Draco threw a mental tether out to Blue-Eyes, giving him a lifeline to his own mind. “Let us begin.” Heart announced.
With no warning, no transition, no sensations, Draco found himself in the Chamber of the Council. Only...it wasn’t finished. There was a hole in the east wall, and another in the north. Looking down, Draco yelped slightly. His body had become ghostly and insubstantial. With a start, Draco realized that here, he was a ghost. Looking to the left, he saw Heart standing next to him in the same form. Looking to his right, he saw Heart sitting next to him, in the Throne of Riders, as a solid person. “Watch carefully.” spirit-Heart said. Draco nodded, and turned his attention to the events of the memory.
From the chair of clan Omega, Boltage’s seat in Draco’s time, came a hard voice. “Lord Heart, we simply must take action! Four riders from four clans, it’s a pattern, I’m telling you! We must investigate!”
From the opposite end of the chamber, Phazed’s seat, came another voice. “Shut up, Optimus! We’ve heard enough of these tales. Be it as it may that some apprentices have gone missing, we do not have time to deal with such trivialities. Our nation’s economy is an absolute wreck! If we don’t repair it, then we’d be practically begging for an attack by the warlords to the south!”
Memory-Heart slammed his staff into the ground, commanding attention. “Enough, Optimus! Enough, Einstein! Bickering about these problems does not get us any closer to solving them.” Heart paused, obviously considering his choices. “Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll ask my brother for some assistance to track down the apprentices. Spellcasters are better trackers than we are anyway.” Optimus bowed and left. “As for the economy, we’ll pass a degree to lower the taxes on the small shop owners. That should let them thrive.”
Einstein shook his head. “No, my lord, that won’t solve anything. Their problem is not the taxes, it is their debts. They owe so much to the banks that they’re being sucked dry. And raising taxes on the banks as punishment only pushed them to push their clients harder.”
“Well then, perhaps we can regulate the banks and their policies?” Heart suggested.
“There’s two problems with that: first, they’ll only struggle harder to find more and more dirty tricks to drive their profits up, and second, they’ll throw a lot of negative press our way, make us look like the bad guy.”
Heart considered this for a minute. “Alright, then, here’s what we’ll do: first, we’ll buy the debts from the banks, and then we’ll reorder them so that they can be paid off.”
Einstein blanched. “Do you have any idea how much that will cost us? The people are already complaining about how much we spend, and this won’t help that!”
Heart threw his arms into the air. “Well how the hell do they expect us to provide for them without spending money? Do they think things like roads and dams are just free to make? Do we not pay for their education, their protection?” Sighing, he leaned back in the throne. “We’ll do it anyway, regardless what they say.” he paused. “And send people to inform them of their accounts personally.” Einstein nodded, got up, and left. “Now,” Heart said. turning to look at Sky’s chair. “Xion, I believe you had a request for me today as well?”
“Yes, my lord.” Xion said.
“Then I thank you for your patience, old friend. What do you need?”
“Sir, two of our dragons were injured in a skirmish with some thief tribes. Because of this, we need some support to help maintain the border. I have been asked by my guard captain to request two more riders and dragons, combat-ready, from the northern contingent.” Xion explained.
“Yes, of course.” Heart replied. “I’ll send you three, in fact. Einstein may be a little pushy, but I’ve found that his gut is usually right – with our economy dragging such as it is, there may be some warlords who look this way.” He looked out the large hole. “I think we all remember what happened last time they did that.” At this, Xion looked slightly uncomfortable. Realizing what he had said, Heart quickly added, “Not due to your fault, Xion, we all know that. To blame someone for having a 120-degree fever would be ridiculous.” Straightening, Xion nodded and left, leaving
Sighing once more, Heart turned and looked directly at Draco. “I never can get them all, can I?”
Not thinking, Draco replied, “No ruler ever can.” He heard spirit-Heart chuckling next to him.“That’s very comforting, but I’m actually talking to White right now.” Embarrassed, Draco tuned his mind to listen for their conversation. No, I suppose you can’t. White said. Draco gasped, amazed at how much White sounded like Blue-Eyes. Or would it be the other way around? But their concerns are valid, all of them.
“I know, I know. It’s just frustrating, is all.” Heart said.I suppose you’d like to go speak to Lord Draco now? White said. Draco threw his gaze at spirit-Heart, who seemed confused at his alarm.
“Yes,” memory-Heart said. “His trackers are the best in the world. With them aiding us, our apprentices will be found in no time.” Rising from the throne, he quickly crossed the chamber. At a nod from spirit-Heart, they followed him. Memory-Heart took the left corridor, then immediately clambered down the narrow staircase. He then made a right down a dead end hallway, enclosed with a large portrait of Star Ferlae.
“I know this route!” Draco said. “This is the same route I take to meet with Blue-Eyes after a session.”“Is it really?” Spirit-Heart said. “Well, it’s nice to know that my tradition caught on.”
Draco shook his head. “No, I’m the only one, or at least I thought I was. According to the records, this place suffered a collapse some three months after your death, before your son was crowned. I dug out the old passage after finding it on an old schematic.” Heart shrugged and continued on after his former self. Draco followed him.
Memory- Heart reached the painting and kept going. The painting fell backwards, revealing a huge hole in the wall. Heart ran down the newly made ledge and jumped off, vanishing from view. A moment later, he rose back into sight, now on the back of White. Heart followed, simply floating after the pair. Shrugging, Draco did the same. They followed the two for a long while in silence. Finally, Draco couldn’t take it anymore. “Sir, who is he going to meet? He said-Draco.”
Spirit-Heart frowned. “You mean you don’t know of your namesake?” Draco shook his head slowly, causing Heart to laugh. “Then boy are you in for a treat, m’boy!” They continued after the pair. Finally, they reached a city that Draco knew.
“The Spellcaster Capital!” he spat out.
Heart looked at him in surprise. “But of course. After all, where else would one go to meet with the King of Mages?”

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Wallace dodged the blades of the two men, rolling in the air between the crossing swords. Landing on one foot, he launched off it into the taller Samurai. His savage right cross resulted in a satisfied crack! as the man’s neck gave way. The shorter man faltered, on the verge of retreat, which Wallace would have condemned as cowardice in most other scenarios. Then again, the man had just witnessed fifteen of what were probably his close friends taken apart by a teenager. In his shoes, Wallace figured he’d have already soiled himself. Still, it was the man’s duty to fight, so he did. Wallace saw his double-handed sweep coming before the man had even made up his mind. Springing his feet into the air, he landed on the sword as it swept past, letting it carry him to land behind the man. Just as it dawned on the man what had happened, Wallace snapped his body into a low sweep kick, sending the soldier slamming into the ground. Allowing the momentum to carry him to his feet, Wallace practically tossed a dart into the man’s throat.
Looking up at the tower, he wondered, Spark...where are you? The gate had closed some twenty minutes ago, but Spark had yet to emerge from the tower and join the battle. Perhaps they’ve scaled it from the other side, and he’s fending them off. He flipped up the railings to reach the roof. Running to the tower, he called up to Yusei, “I’m going to check on Spark!” He was answered with a thumbs-up. He turned and ran to the wall; climbed the ladder, though considerably slower than Spark, and jumped into the control room to find what he had feared: a squad of Samurai trying to figure out how to open the gate.
As one, the turned their head and looked at him. Wallace sighed. “Aw, sh-” They sprung into action, attacking him with surprising precision and accuracy. It was actually a challenge to dodge them all. Any other day, Wallace would have enjoyed this, but not today. Not from Spark’s killers. As he backflipped away, he spotted Sarge’s sword on the far side of the room. With a fierce yell, he charged the six men. At the last second, he dropped to his left hip, sliding past the men. Ignoring his body’s immediate protest from the impact, he slid across the floor and scooped up his sword, spinning to his knees, his back to the squad. “Now you die, you bastards!” Screaming a fierce cry, he once more charged the men. This time, he did not stop. Nothing could stop him. Not the steel of their blades, the oak of their armor, the metal of their mail, the bones of their skeletons, or the flesh of their beating hearts. In a swift series of blinding slashes, he cut not just down, but cut up the entire squad.
Panting, he staggered over to the window. The Yamadron Guard was doing a fine job of mopping up the rest of the Samurai forces. Old Ookazi had some fire in his bones, that was for sure. An enormous BOOM! interrupted his observation of the battle. Running across the room, Wallace looked out the other window to see the Samurai reinforcements, and his heart sank. There stood over 300 men in total; all the troops divided into cavalry, archers, infantry, and siege. Right now, the latter was slamming enormous boulders into the city’s North Gate, leaving dents with each hit. As he watched, one of the archers spotted him, and gave an order. He didn’t hear, but he guessed it probably something along the lines of, Hey! Shoot that guy!, judging by the dozens of arrows that came flying at him. He threw himself back from the window as they slammed into the boards above him. Once they buried themselves into the ceiling, they exploded in bursts of fire. The force of the blasts threw Wallace into the wall, and set the entire room ablaze instantly.
Dazed, he struggled to get up in the thickly smoky room. Gotta...get outta here... he thought. He rose to his feet, and took a step forward. His knee gave way, and he fell down. Grabbing at the small gaps between the floorboards, he dragged himself along the floor. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the window. His arms quivering, he raised himself to a sitting position on the ledge. Looking back, he saw that the whole of the control room was engulfed in flames. He watched in horror as an oak latch snapped, releasing an enormous lever, which permitted a heavy chain to start flying upward so fast that it snapped. Again in horror, he felt, more than heard the gate come crashing down. Looking out the window, he looked on as fresh Samurai troops flooded the square, demolishing the weary Yamadron soldiers.
Growling, Wallace tried to climb down the ladder. He got halfway down when an archer shot another one of those exploding arrows at him. It hit the wall in front of him, and the resulting shockwave threw him off the wall, sailing through the air as he fell the remaining 20 feet. Knowing that he wouldn’t survive the fall, Wallace took peace in the knowledge that he would see Sarge again. As he flew past a building, an arm flew out and caught his, stopping his fall.
“Gotcha!” Yusei yelled. He groaned as he pulled Wallace over the lip of the window. “What the hell happened to you? And where’s Spark?”
Wallace tried to answer him, but all that came out was vomit. Once he got his body under control, he managed to spit out, “Samurai...climbed the outside. They must’ve...killed Spark. I got them back in kind, but then they started in with their siege weapons. I looked out the window, and they shot off some sort of...exploding arrow. The whole room burst into flame...the a chain started moving because its latch broke, and the gate fell. I made it halfway down the ladder...then...they...shot off another...exploding...arrow...” he shuddered into unconsciousness.
Yusei was stunned. Spark, dead? No-he couldn’t afford to focus on that right now. Right now, his job was to get his only other friend, the only other survivor of their village, to safety. Grabbing Wallace’s arm, Yusei pulled him up onto his back. He made it to the arched window when an enemy archer climbed through it. For a split second, they just watched each other. Then the Samurai drew a dagger and lunged at him. He never connected, though. Instead, one of those exploding arrows flew into the room and hit in the corner above him. The blast took out that corner of the brick, as well as the Samurai archer. Yusei, however, was simply slammed into the wall back first. Thankfully for him, Wallace provided him with a soft landing. Crouching next to the archer, Yusei decided to take the man’s arrows. He noticed that the tips of some arrows were speckled. On a hunch, he shot one off at a siege engine. As he suspected, these were those exploding arrows. He also took some of the man’s food, as well as his canteen, and a small pouch of powder that was hanging from his waist.
Thusly resupplied, he picked Wallace back up and jumped out the window. Halfway down, he turned and fired a lined arrow off at a beam on the roof of a building across the pavilion, its rope snaking through the air behind it. He turned his fall into a swing, attracting a number of arrows from the Samurai. None hit. That’s it, he thought, waste your ammo on an impossible target. Flipping off the rope, he landed on the roof. As his foot made contact, the beam, weakened by the fire, snapped under his weight. His heart skipped a beat as he fell through into the building. Once again, Wallace exhibited exceptional skill at being a crash pillow.
Just as Yusei calmed his nerves, a burning man was blasted through the window. Looking at the man, he realized he was a soldier of Yamadron. Rushing over to him as fast as his sore muscles would allow, Yusei grabbed the doormat and threw it over the man, smothering the fire. Removing it, he crouched by the man’s head, holding him up by the shoulders. The man coughed and spluttered blood. Yusei knew he wouldn’t live. To his amazement, however, the man spoke.
“Where is my son?” Yusei struggled to recover from his shock. “Where is he?” the man demanded. “I am Commander Hinotama Forgame, leader of the Defensive Army of Yamadron. Where is my son, Colonel Spark Forgame?”
Yusei’s shoulders slumped as a knot form in his gut. “Sir, I am afraid that he was killed in action by the Samurai. He climbed into the gate tower to raise the gate, but they climbed the other side and killed him. Wallace went after him, and saw the killers. He killed them. Your son has been avenged.”
The man shook his head and took a deep, rattling breath. “No, he hasn’t. He’ll not be avenged unless this war is won and the Samurai punished.” he let out the air in an explosion of coughing. “It’s Yusei, isn’t it?” Yusei nodded. “Then I want you to promise me something, Yusei. I want you to swear, on your honor, that you will avenge my son, my father, my city, and myself, by fighting against the Samurai and their allies until this war is won, or die trying.” Yusei struggled to speak. “Do you swear it?” Hinotama barked.
Yusei took a deep breath and hardened his resolve. “Yes, I swear. I swear to avenge every man, woman, and child lost today, tomorrow, and every day hence in this war by defeating the Samurai, allowing nothing to stop me but death itself.”
Hinotama nodded, his entire body relaxing. “Good, that’s good,” he slurred. “Yamadron is lost. Do what you must to survive.” He sighed, the air gently flowing from him until it stopped. Yusei remained holding the man, staring into his empty eyes, until an explosion outside jarred him back to reality.
He took another deep breath and remembered his training. Step 1: face the facts. He had a full quiver, a bag of explosive powder, enough food for two days split between him and Wallace, and a little less water. He also still had his father’s medical kit, salvaged from the wreckage of his home. On the downside, he was almost ready to pass out from exhaustion, Wallace wasn’t going anywhere on his own for another few hours, and he had no horse. He sat and tried to think of what to do. Reaching a rough plan, he grabbed Wallace and dragged him out the back door into the side alley. As he suspected, it was empty of fighters...for now, anyway. He pulled Wallace into the next shop, then rushed back out to blow up a brick wall separating the alley from the plaza, rushing back inside before the arrow even hit its mark. As the wall went down, soldiers poured through, looking to flank the defenders.
Yusei used the distraction to flee east, the direction in which Ookazi’s forces would be retreating. As long as he managed to divert the Samurai troops like he just did, it should be easy to remain ahead of the retreat, at least until it curved inward with the city’s design. He kept at it. Five times, the fighting required him to make a diversion. He finally managed to pull away and make it to the East Gate. He stood about 30 feet away from the wall and nocked three explosive arrows at once, all of which he dipped in the bag of powder to give them more power. Taking aim at a small chip in the mortar between two massive bricks, he fired the triple shot. As he hoped, the enormous blast ripped a hole in the city’s wall large enough for him to squeeze through. He went through it, pulling Wallace with him. Throwing Wallace on his back, Yusei headed east, on a hunch as to where he might find an ally in his quest.[/spoiler]

Spoiler:

Phoenix spun the guard into the last man standing, knocking him to the ground. Letting go of the man’s feet, he watched the other man fly about halfway across the room before hitting the ground. Glaring at him, Phoenix snapped at Zanrith, “You could’ve lent me a hand there, you know.”
Zanrith shrugged. “You seemed to have it all well handled.” Since their enormous battle on the 30th sub-floor, they apparently had left the high-security section of the tower behind. The good side was that there were fewer guards, but the bad side was that the floors were mazes, obviously meant to thwart exactly what they were doing: escaping. “Though since you took care of the guards, I guess it’s only fair for me to take care of the wall.” Phoenix stepped back as Zanrith focused, channeling his energy into a single point. With a fierce yell, Zanrith snapped forward, his elbow pulverizing the wall with a single touch. Taking care not to trip on the rubble, they walked through their newly made doorway.
That was their only advantage. They had searched a pair of spellcasters who had been patrolling the prison, and found some pills that had restored their energy to roughly half their full power. By conserving it, they had been able to break through the maze in several locations. Between that and Zanrith’s knack for patterns, they’d had a relatively easy time.
As they walked up the newly revealed staircase, Phoenix felt the air pressure change slightly. “This is it,” he said, stopping abruptly. He turned to look at Zanrith, his face breaking into a wide grin. “We’re at the surface!”
Zanrith paused. “Phoenix, listen, I’ve been thinking about this: there’s probably a powerful sorcerer waiting at the ground floor, as Doom’s last attempt to stop us.”
Phoenix considered it and nodded. “So then we need to higher... to the roof.” Now Zanrith nodded. “Then what are we waiting for?” he said, bounding up the steps. They pressed on until they came to the apparent top of the staircase, where a stone wall stood in front of them, and a wooden door to the right. Zanrith pushed pass Phoenix and tapped on the wall, his ear pressed flat against it. Grinning, he again atomized an obstacle, revealing a new section of the staircase, this one twice as long as the first. “Age before beauty,” Phoenix, letting Zanrith ahead of him. Zanrith glared at him.
It took them several minutes to scale the second section. By the time they got to the top of it, however, Phoenix could tell that they were at least 250 feet in the air. The end of the second section looked just the same as the first, but this time Zanrith pulled away from it, shaking his head. So instead, they walked through the door, and where met with...nothing. Looking to the right, Phoenix saw a sign that told him that they were on the 25th floor, confirming his own mental estimate. Pulling out the swords they had acquired from the guards, they dashed through the halls, smashing walls whenever Zanrith said to. Before long, they reached another staircase, which they followed to the 60th floor.
When they reached the 60th floor, however, there was a contingent of guards waiting for them. They hacked their way through, siphoning off the last vestiges of energy from the men as they died. Once the task was done, they nodded to each other, and proceeded to the next staircase, which had two sections. Phoenix could tell that this was it – they were now 1010 feet in the air...on the roof of Grisailles Tower.
They emerged through the door into the starry night sky, careful to watch for traps. Back-to-back, they walked out of the roof access. They stood there for a few minutes. “Now what?” Phoenix asked.
* * *
Lordrag stood and waited for the hunters to attack. They stayed where they were, floating in a starburst pattern. “Fine then,” he muttered. “Have it your way.” in tandem, he and Wyvern threw their heads back, letting loose a beautifully hideous roar. An explosion of black energy erupted around them, blinding the spellcasters. Once it cleared, they stood side-by-side, staring intently at the dragon hunters. Now, though, they were both clad in slick black armor. Lordrag spread the wings of his armor and crouched. Faster than anyone could follow, he was just there, next to the spellcasters, grabbing one, breaking their neck, and flying off, simply to dive-bomb another, slamming him to the ground so fast that the man’s bones liquefied.
He repeated this until there was one man left – the squad captain. He turned in the air to face him. “You’ve made a grave mistake, attacking me. Now you shall pay for your insults.” He dashed at the man. Faster than even he could track, however, the man flipped through the air, dodging his grab, and slammed onto Lordrag’s back with both feet. Tumbling down, Lordrag struggled to regain control. Finally, he stopped about 15 feet in the air, facing up at the man. He charged through the air at him, determined to rip his throat out of his neck. The man blocked Lordrag’s arm with a casual sweep of his hand, sending Lordrag speeding out to his left.
“You, too, have made a mistake.” called the captain. “Your dash-and-die strategy was serving you well, but you abandoned it to gloat. Now you shall die by the hand of Rowwdy Yisb!” Rowwdy shed his long robe, revealing a combat tunic beneath, and pulled a scepter off his back. It was five feet long, with a sharp spike on one end, and a jewel on the other. The jewel was the same size and shape as the spike, and was ruby-colored. As Rowwdy spun the staff, it glowed golden. Rowwdy turned in the air, swinging the scepter like a long sword, with the crystal at its point. When the gem leveled with Lordrag’s chest, it fired off an enormous blast of ruby energy. It took all of his skill to dodge.
Once he did, Rowwdy was there, slamming the staff into his gut, knocking the wind out of. Rowwdy spun in the air, bringing the staff around in to Lordrag’s back. Lordrag’s numb form made a beeline for the earth. He knew that his armor, and his skeleton, would shatter on impact. Instead, Wyvern intercepted, Lordrag slamming into the dragon’s saddle. Groaning, Lordrag sat up and looked behind them to see that Rowwdy was in pursuit. Faster, Wyvern! He’s gaining! Wyvern snorted and picked up his pace. Go with the original plan! Do not deviate! Angling his wings, Wyvern streaked into the city. As soon as they passed over the massive wall, they heard sirens and alarms wailing in the city below. People screamed and scattered when they saw Wyvern. Rowwdy stopped firing blasts, instead straining to catch up to them.
* * *
A voice behind them called out, “Now you die.” They wheeled around to find the speaker, only to be nearly thrown off the roof by a earthen shockwave. “You really should be more perceptive of your surroundings. Perhaps you need a wake-up call.” Phoenix was barely able to throw himself to the side before a lightning bolt left a crater where his body had been. Zanrith was not so lucky. His bolt hit him dead on, throwing him twenty feet into the air. Phoenix quickly created a wind tunnel to gently carry him back onto the roof. He turned to face their assailant. The man smiled. “Hello Phoenix. I’m glad to see I got the tough opponent out first...It makes my job so much easier.”
The man gathered his arms, throwing a tunnel of wind at Phoenix to blast him off the roof. Phoenix met it head on, cleaving the blast in half with an almost casual swipe of his palm. The man looked stunned. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I’ve had about as much of you Spellcasters as I can stand. You think I’ll be going down easy? You’ve got another thing coming, fool.”

He threw his right leg into a long sweep, bring his knee to his chest at the apex, and kicked with all his force at the stranger. The gust of wind that followed was nothing short of a microburst. The man grunted as the wave of force hit him, slamming him back. He formed a spins wheel of air in front of him as a shield, but the blast still threatened to push him off the roof. Phoenix didn’t let up, and kept them coming. The man spun and leaped, struggling to dodge them all. As he flipped over one, he sent a jet of fire along it, racing back up to Phoenix, who instantly cut off the flow and formed a vacuum sphere to kill the fire.
The stranger dashed forward, faster than should have been possible, and connected two fingers with Phoenix’s ribcage. Instantly, lightning seared through every nerve in his body, threatening to fry his brain. Out of pure instinct, he let out a tremendous howl, creating a sphere of solid air around him. He wanted the electricity gone. Suddenly, it was. The other man had been thrown backwards, as well. Puzzled, Phoenix tried to figured out what happened. Then it dawned on him: he had removed all the static from the air around him, choking off the lightning like fire in a vacuum. The other man sent a jagged bolt at him. He formed the sphere again and coked it off.
“Not bad,” the other man said. “If this is your level of skill, this should be a grand battle indeed! You should know my name.”
Phoenix cut him off with another blast of air. “I don’t care who you are. You’re in my way, and I’m putting you out of it – PERMENANTLY!”
The man dodged the wave, gliding back to his feet. “Regardless, I am Lithium Ian Battieri, advisor and second in command to his Lordship, the great Doom!” Lithium launched at Phoenix, his drawn hand encased in a gauntlet of fire. He chopped at Phoenix with it faster than Phoenix could vacuum it away. Seeing his assault as insufficient, he formed a second gauntlet around his other hand, and boots around his feet. Now he unleashed his full martial capability on Phoenix, who could barely stand against it.
Jumping high in the air, Phoenix used his reprieve to form his own elemental accessories. Once he landed, they resumed their intense fight, using the air to boost their speed far beyond that of normal human standards. After one particularly furious flurry of blows, they threw themselves back. Neither was even out of breath. Lithium called out, “It would seem that we have reached an impasse. Unfortunately for you, I have backup I can call upon. Where’s yours?”
Just then, they heard sirens and alarms wailing throughout the city. An enormous black dragon was zipping over the city, heading for what looked like Hemlorent Tower, with a small figure chasing it. Phoenix saw someone stand in the saddle of the dragon, before jumping off and flying straight for them. He grinned. “They’re right here,” he said to Lithium. Lithium actually looked worried.
The rider flew high over the roof, then straight down to slam into it. He was clad in black Dragonic armor, sizzling with dark energy waves. Phoenix scoffed. “Nice entrance, Lordrag.”
His old combat instructor grinned. “I rather thought, so, yes. So what have we here?” he asked, gesturing to Lithium.”
“Some annoying guy, says he’s second-in-command here.”
“Really, now? Then this should be fun.” Lordrag punched the air in front of him, sending a blast of dark energy speeding at Lithium. Lithium raised his hand, loosing a bolt of lightning from his palm, which blasted the ball apart. It flashed towards Lordrag, only to splash harmlessly off his armor. “Is that the best you can do?” he boasted. His chuckling was interrupted by an enormous blast of fire that threw him into the air.
Lithium looked at Phoenix. “Is he always like that?”
Phoenix shrugged. “It comes and goes.” He dashed at Lithium, who summoned a wall of fire between them. Turning and sidestepping, Phoenix conducted the fire along a rope of wind and whipped it at Lithium, who dissipated it with shield of his own fire.
“Enough of this.” Lithium declared. Once more, he formed his elemental armor, but now it was complete, with gauntlets of fire and ice, boots of wind, a breastplate of stone, all held together by chain mail of lightning. “I am the last of the Elemental Masters, and I shall complete my mission and kill you.”
He charged at Lordrag, who was just landing. He never connected. Instead, Phoenix summoned all his power, unleashing the most powerful gust of wind he had ever used in his life. It slammed into Lithium, blasting his armor right off of him, and throwing him over the edge of the roof. He fell to his knees, and felt Lordrag picking him up. His mouth numb, he slurred at him to grab Zanrith, too. He did, the ran off the roof just as Lithium climbed back up, causing him to spew a stream of curses. Phoenix could sense that Lordrag was straining to keep all of them aloft. Just in time, Wyvern caught them, and Phoenix blacked out.

Last edited by Wallaceman105 on Sun Apr 09, 2017 8:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Update to say that I might be revisiting this soon.
I've written and thought up plenty in the past 2 years that builds onto and off of this story, and I've also been working to separate it from it's YGO ties.
Since it's been so long, if the hiatus is lifted, I would be fairly interested in re-doing it.